By Advice of Counsel
Court?" inquired Mr. Tutt suavely. "If so I will ask that the prisoner
be paroled in my custody. Judge Winthrop is waiting."
Babson had turned pale. Facing a dozen newspapermen, pencils in hand, he
quailed. To hell with "face." Why, if he went on any longer with the
farce the papers would roast the life out of him. With an apology for a
smile that was, in fact, a ghastly grin, he addressed himself to the
waiting group of jurymen, lawyers and reporters.
"Of course, gentlemen," he said, "I never had any real intention of
dealing harshly with Miss Beekman. Undoubtedly she acted quite honestly
and according to her best lights. She is a very estimable member of
society. It will be unnecessary, Mr. Tutt, for you to argue the writ
before Judge Winthrop. The relator, Althea Beekman, is discharged."
"Thank you, Your Honor!" returned Mr. Tutt, bowing profoundly, and
lowering an eyelid in the direction of the gentlemen of the press. "You
are indeed a wise and upright judge!"
The wise and upright judge rose grandly and gathered his robes about the
judicial legs.
"Good morning, gentlemen," he remarked from his altitude to the
reporters.
"Good morning, judge," they replied in chorus. "May we say anything
about the writ?"
Judge Babson paused momentarily in his flight.
"Oh! Perhaps you might as well let the whole thing go," he answered
carelessly. "On the whole I think it better that you should."
As they fought their way out of the doorway Charley Still, of the _Sun_,
grinned at "Deacon" Terry, of the _Tribune_, and jocosely inquired:
"Say, Deac., did you ever think why one calls a judge 'Your Honor'?"
The Deacon momentarily removed his elbow from the abdomen of the
gentleman beside him and replied sincerely though breathlessly, "No! You
can search me!"
And "Cap." Phelan, who happened to be setting his watch at just that
instant, affirms that he will make affidavit that the old yellow clock
winked across the room at the Goddess of Justice, and that beneath her
bandages she unmistakably smiled.
By Advice of Counsel
"Kotow! Kotow! To the great Yen-How,
And wish him the longest of lives!
With his one-little, two-little, three-little, four-little,
Five-little, six-little wives!"
"The fact is I've been arrested for bigamy," said Mr. Higgleby in a
pained and slightly resentful manner. He was an ample flabby person,
built like an isosceles triangle with a smallish head for the apex,
slightly expanded in the gangliar region just above the nape of the
neck--medical students and phrenologists please note--and habitually
wearing an expression of helpless pathos. Instinctively you felt that
you wanted to do something for Mr. Higgleby--to mother him, maybe.
"Then you should see my partner, Mr. Tutt," said Mr. Tutt severely.
"He's the matrimonial specialist."
"I want to see Mr. Tutt, the celebrated divorce lawyer," explained Mr.
Higgleby.
"You mean my partner, Mr. Tutt," said Mr. Tutt. "Willie, show the
gentleman in to Mr. Tutt."
"Thank you, sir," said Mr. Higgleby, and followed Willie.
"Is this Mr. Higgleby?" chirped Tutt as Higgleby entered the adjoining
office. "Delighted to see you, sir! What can we--I--do for you?"
"The fact is, I've been arrested for bigamy," repeated Mr. Higgleby.
Now the Tutt system--demonstrated effective by years of experience--for
putting a client in a properly grateful and hence liberal frame of mind
was, like the method of some physicians, first to scare said client, or
patient, out of his seven senses; second, to admit reluctantly, upon
reflection, that in view of the fact that he had wisely come to Tutt &
Tutt there might still be some hope for him; and third, to exculpate him
with such a flourish of congratulation upon his escape that he was glad
to pay the modest little fee of which he was then and there relieved.
Tutt & Tutt had only two classes of clients: those who paid as they came
in, and those who paid as they went out.
Therefore upon hearing Mr. Higgleby's announcement as to the nature of
his trouble Tutt registered horror.
"What? What did you say?" he demanded.
"I said," repeated Mr. Higgleby with a shade of annoyance, "'the fact
is, I've been arrested for bigamy.' I don't see any reason for making
such a touse about it," he added plaintively.
"Who's making a--a--a touse about it?" inquired Tutt, perceiving that he
had taken the wrong tack. "I'm not. I was just a little surprised at a
man of your genteel appearance--"
"Oh, rot!" expostulated Mr. Higgleby weakly. "You're just like all of
'em! I suppose you were going to say I didn't look like a bigamist--and
all that. Well, cut it! Let's start fair. I _am_ a bigamist!"
Tutt regarded him with obvious curiosity. "You don't say!" he
ejaculated, much as if he wished to add: "How does it feel?"
"I do say!" retorted Mr. Higgleby.
"Well," exclaimed Tutt cheerily, passing into the second phase of the
Tutt-Tutt treatment, "after all, bigamy isn't so bad! It's only five
years at the worst. Generally it's not more than six months."
"Get wise!" snapped Mr. Higgleby. "I didn't come here to have you throw
cold chills into me. I came here to find out how to beat it!"
"Why, certainly! Of course!" protested Tutt hastily.
"I was--"
"And I expect you to get me off!"
"Yes, yes!" murmured Tutt, his usual style completely cramped.
"No matter what!"
"Yes," faintly tuttered Tutt.
"Well," continued Higgleby, taking out a cigar that in shape and
looseness of wrapping closely resembled its owner, "now that's settled,
let's get down to brass tacks. Here's a copy of the indictment."
He produced a document bearing a large gold seal.
"Those robbers made me pay a dollar-sixty for certification!" he
remarked peevishly, indicating the ornament. "What good is certification
to me? As if I wanted to pay to make sure I was accused in exact
language! Anybody can draw an indictment for bigamy!"
COURT OF GENERAL SESSIONS OF THE PEACE IN AND FOR THE COUNTY OF NEW
YORK
The People of the State of New York against
THEOPHILUS HIGGLEBY
The Grand Jury of the County of New York, by this indictment,
accuse Theophilus Higgleby of the crime of bigamy, committed as
follows:
The said Theophilus Higgleby, late of the borough of Manhattan of
the city of New York in the county of New York, aforesaid, on the
eleventh day of May in the year of our Lord one thousand nine
hundred and nineteen, at Cook County and the city of Chicago in the
state of Illinois, did marry one Tomascene Startup, and her, the
said Tomascene Startup, did then and there have for his wife;
And afterward, to wit, on the seventeenth day of December in the
year of our Lord one thousand nine hundred and nineteen, at the
borough of Manhattan of the city of New York in the county of New
York aforesaid, did feloniously marry and take as his wife one
Alvina Woodcock, and to the said Alvina Woodcock was then and there
married, the said Tomascene Startup being then and there living and
in full life, against the form of the statute in such case made and
provided, and against the peace of the people of the state of New
York and their dignity.
JEREMIAH PECKHAM,
District Attorney.
Such was the precise accusation against the isosceles-triangular client,
who now sat so limply and disjointedly on the opposite side of Tutt's
desk with a certain peculiar air of assurance all his own, as if, though
surprised and somewhat annoyed at the grand jury's interference with his
private affairs, he was nevertheless--being captain of his own soul--not
particularly disturbed about the matter.
"And--er--did you marry these two ladies?" inquired Tutt
apologetically.
"Sure!" responded Higgleby without hesitation.
"May I ask why?"
"Why not?" returned Higgleby. "I'm a traveling man."
"Look here," suddenly demanded Tutt. "Were you ever a lawyer?"
"Sure I was!" responded Mr. Higgleby. "I was a member of the bar of
Osceola County, Florida."
"You don't say!" gasped Tutt.
"And what, may I ask, are you now?"
"Now I'm a bigamist!" answered Mr. Higgleby.
We forget precisely who it was that so observantly said to another,
"Much learning doth make thee mad." At any rate the point to be noted is
that overindulgence in erudition has always been known to have an
unfortunate effect upon the intellectual faculty. Too much wine--though
it must have required an inordinate quantity in certain mendacious
periods--was regarded as provocative of truth; and too many books as
clearly put bats in a man's belfry. The explanation is of course simple
enough. If one overweights the head the whole structure is apt to become
unbalanced. This is the reason why we hold scholars in such light
esteem. They are an unbalanced lot. And after all, why should they get
paid more than half the wage of plumbers or locomotive firemen? What is
easier than sitting before a comfortable steam radiator and reading an
etymological dictionary or the Laws of Hammurabi? They toil not even if
their heads spin. Only in Germany has the pedagogue ever received full
meed of gold and of honor--and look at Germany!
Pedants have never been much considered by men of action. They never
will be. Experience is the only teacher, which, in the language of Amos
Eno, who left two millions to the Institute of Mechanics and Tradesmen,
is "worth a damn." We Americans abhor any affectation of learning; hence
our weakness for slang. I should apologize for the word "weakness." On
the contrary it is a token of our virile independence, our scorn for the
delicatessen of education, mere dilettanteism. And this has its
practical side, for if we don't know how to pronounce the words
"evanescent persiflage" we can call it "bunk" or "rot." We suspect all
college graduates. We don't want them in our business. They slink
through our lives like pickpockets fearful of detection.
What has all this to do with anything? It has to do, dear reader, with
Mr. Caput Magnus, the assistant of the district attorney of the county
of New York, whose duty it was to present the evidence in all criminal
cases to the grand jury and make ready the instruments of torture known
as bills of indictment for that august body's action thereon.
For by all the lights of the Five Points, Chinatown--Mulberry, Canal,
Franklin, Lafayette and Centre streets--Pontin's Restaurant, Moe Levy's
One Price Tailoring Establishment, and even by those of the glorious
days of Howe & Hummel, by the Nine Gods of Law--and more--Caput Magnus
was a learned savant. He and he alone of all the members of the bar on
the pay roll of the prosecutor's office, housed in their smoke-hung
cubicles in the Criminal Courts Building, knew how to draw up those
complicated and awful things with their barbed-wire entanglements of
"saids," "then and there beings," "with intents," "dids," "to wits," and
"aforesaids" in all the verbal chaos with which the law requires those
accused of crime to be "simply, clearly and directly" informed of the
nature of the offense charged against them, in order that they may know
what to do about it and prepare their defense.
And while we are on it--and in order that the reader may be fully
instructed and qualified to pursue Tutt & Tutt through their various
adventures hereafter--we may as well add that herein lies one of the
pitfalls of crime; for the simple-minded burglar or embezzler may
blithely make way with a silver service or bundle of bank notes only to
find himself floundering, horse, foot and dragoons, in a quagmire of
phraseology from which he cannot escape, wriggle as he will. Many such a
one has thrown up his hands--and with them silver service, bank notes