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The stenographer was humming to himself: Bagdad is a town in Turkey On a camel tall and jerky. "Are both sides ready to try this case?" inquired Judge Wetherell, choking a yawn. He was a very stout judge and he could not help yawning. Deputy Assistant District Attorney Pepperill and Mr. Tutt rose in unison, declaring that they were.
"Didn't you tear a hole in the hedge and stamp down the grass when by taking a few extra steps you could have reached the beach without difficulty?" "I I simply tried to remove an illegal obstruction," declared Tunnygate indignantly. "Didn't Mr. Appleboy ask you to keep off?" "Sure yes!" "Didn't you obstinately refuse to do so?" Mr. Pepperill objected to "obstinately" and it was stricken out.
With this youthful friend, Jock, the old Squire who then of course was young had journeyed to Connecticut to buy merino sheep: that memorable trip when they met with Anice and Ruth Pepperill, the two girls whom they subsequently married and brought home. For the last seventeen years matters had not been going prosperously or happily at the Edwards farm.
Tunnygate's story from his own lips. Mr. Tunnygate limped with difficulty to the stand, and having been sworn gingerly sat down partially. Then turning his broadside to the gaping jury he recounted his woes with indignant gasps. "Have you the trousers which you wore upon that occasion?" inquired Pepperill. Mr.
Deputy Assistant District Attorney Pepperill complacently set about the preparation of his case, utterly unconscious of the dangers with which his legal path was beset.
Deputy Assistant District Attorney Pepperill started doubtfully to his feet. "If the court please," he murmured in a sickly voice, "I object. In the first place I don't know anything about this record and I object to it on that ground; and in the second place a trial and conviction in the absence of a defendant under our law is no conviction at all."
"He was the best I could get," apologized Pepperill, while the countenance of Mr. Zahoul blazed with wrath and humiliation. "It's very difficult to get a fluent interpreter in Arabic." "Well, just interpret what he says to me, will you?" kindly requested His Honor.
"Well, you may as well proceed to select a jury," directed the court, putting on his glasses and studying his copy of Al-Hoda with interest. Presently he beckoned to Pepperill. "Have you seen this?" he asked. "No, Your Honor. What is it?" "It's a newspaper published by these people," explained His Honor. "Rather amusing, isn't it?"
"I didn't know they had any special newspaper of their own," admitted Pepperill. "They've got eight right in New York," interjected the stenographer. "I notice that this paper is largely composed of advertisements," commented Wetherell.
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.
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