"Well, just interpret what _he_ says to _me_, will you?" kindly requested His Honor.

"I zay," suddenly exploded Zahoul--"dees papaire eet half contemptuous article on ze _menkaha_ zat dees Kasheed Ha.s.soun not kill dees Sardi Babu!"

"He says," translated Pepperill, "that the newspaper contains an indiscreet article in favor of the defense. I had no idea there would be any improper attempt to influence the jury."

"What difference does it make, anyway?" inquired His Honor. "You don't expect any juryman is going to read that thing, do you? Why, it looks as if a b.u.mblebee had fallen into an ink bottle and then had a fit all over the front page."

"I don't suppose--" began Pepperill.

"Go on and get your jury!" admonished the court.

So the lion and the lamb in the shape of Mr. Tutt and Pepperill proceeded to select twelve gentlemen to pa.s.s upon the issue who had never been nearer to Syria than the Boardwalk at Atlantic City and who only with the utmost attention could make head or tail of what Mr. Salim Zahoul averred that the witnesses were trying to say. Moreover, most of the talesmen evinced a profound distrust of their own ability to do justice between the People and the defendant and a curious desire to be relieved from service. However, at last the dozen had been chosen and sworn, the congestion of the court room slightly relieved, Mr. Zahoul somewhat appeased, and Mr. William Montague Pepperill rose to outline his very simple case to the jury.

There was, he explained, no more difficulty in administering justice in the case of a foreigner than of anyone else. All were equal in the eyes of the law--equally presumed to be innocent, equally responsible when proved guilty. And he would prove Kasheed Ha.s.soun absolutely guilty--guilty beyond a reasonable doubt, beyond any doubt. He would produce five--five reputable witnesses who would swear that Ha.s.soun had murdered Sardi Babu; and he prophesied that he would unhesitatingly demand at the end of the trial such an unequivocal, fearless, honest expression of their collective opinion as would permanently fix Mr.

Kasheed Ha.s.soun so that he could do no more harm. He expressed it more elegantly but that was the gist of it. He himself was as sincere and honest in his belief in his ability to establish the truth of his claim as he was in the justice of his cause. Alas, he was far too young to realize that there is a vast difference between knowing the truth and being able to demonstrate what it is!

In proper order he called the photographer who had taken the picture of the restaurant, the draftsman who had made the diagram of the interior, the policeman who had arrested Ha.s.soun, the doctor who had performed the official autopsy upon the unfortunate Babu, and the five Syrians who had been present when the crime was perpetrated. Each swore by all that was holy that Kasheed Ha.s.soun had done exactly as outlined by a.s.sistant District Attorney Pepperill--and swore it word for word, _verbatim et literatim, in iisdem verbis, sic_, and yet again exactly. Their testimony mortised and tenoned in a way to rejoice a cabinet-maker's heart. And at first to the surprise and later to the dismay of Mr.

Pepperill, old man Tutt asked not one of them a single question about the murder. Instead he merely inquired in a casual way where they came from, how they got there, what they did for a living, and whether they had ever made any contradictory statement as to what had occurred, and as his cross-examination of Mr. Habu Kahoots was typical of all the rest it may perhaps be set forth as an example, particularly as Mr. Kahoots spoke English, which the others did not.

"And den," a.s.serted Mr. Kahoots stolidly, "Kasheed Ha.s.soun, he grab heem by ze troat and break hees neck."

He was a short, barrel-shaped man with curly ringlets, fat, bulging cheeks, heavy double chin and enormous paunch, and he wore a green worsted waistcoat and his fingers were laden with golden rings.

"Ah!" said Mr. Tutt complaisantly. "You saw all that exactly as you have described it?"

"Yes, sair!"

"Where were you born?"

"Acre, Syria."

"How long have you been in the United States?"

"Tirty years."

"Where do you live?"

"Augusta, Georgia."

"What's your business?"

Mr. Kahoots visibly expanded.

"I have street fair and carnival of my own. I have electric theater, old plantation, Oriental show, snake exhibit and merry-go-round."

"Well, well!" exclaimed Mr. Tutt. "You are certainly a capitalist! I hope you are not financially overextended!"

Mr. Pepperill looked pained, not knowing just how to prevent such jocoseness on the part of his adversary.

"I object," he muttered feebly.

"Quite properly!" agreed Mr. Tutt. "Now, Mr. Kahoots, are you a citizen of the United States?"

Mr. Kahoots looked aggrieved.

"Me? No! Me no citizen. I go back sometime Acre and build moving-picture garden and ice-cream palace."

"I thought so," commented Mr. Tutt. "Now what, pray, were you doing in the Washington Street restaurant?"

"Eating _kibbah arnabeiah_ and _mamoul_."

"I mean if you live in Augusta how did you happen to be in New York at precisely that time?"

"Eh?"

"How you come in New York?" translated Mr. Tutt, while the jury laughed.

"Just come."

"But why?"

"Just come."

"Yes, yes; but you didn't come on just to be present at the murder, did you?"

Kahoots grinned.

"I just come to walk up and down."

"Where--walk up and down?"

"On Washington Street. I spend the winter. I do nothing. I rich man."

"How long did you stay when you just came on?"

"Tree days. Then I go back."

"Why did you go back?"

"I dunno. Just go back."

Mr. Tutt sighed. The jury gave signs of impatience.

"Look here!" he demanded. "How many times have you gone over your story with the district attorney?"

"Nevvair."

"What?"