Arthur Train - Tutt and Mr. Tutt

At any other period in his existence Tutt could not have failed to be impressed with the honesty of this husky exponent of the church militant, but he was drugged as by the drowsy mandragora. The blatant defiance of this muscular preacher outraged him. This canting hypocrite, this wolf in priest's clothing must be brought to book. But how? Mrs. Allison had admitted the literal truth when she had told him that there were no letters, no photographs. There was no use commencing an action for breach of promise if there was no evidence to support it. And once the papers were filed their bolt would have been shot. Some way must be devised whereby the Reverend Winthrop Oaklander could be made to perceive that Tutt &Tutt meant business, and-equally imperative -whereby Georgie would be impressed with the fact that not for nothing had she come to them-that is, to him-for help.

The fact of the matter was that the whole thing had become rather hysterical. Tutt, though having nothing seriously to reproach himself with, was constantly haunted by a sense of being rather ridiculous and doing something behind his wife's back. He told himself that his Platonic regard for Georgie was a noble thing and did him honor, but it was an honor which he preferred to wear as an entirely private decoration. He was conscious of being laughed at by Willie and Scraggs and disapproved of by Miss Wiggin, who was very snippy to him. And in addition there was the omnipresent horror of having Abigail unearth his philandering. He now not only thought of Mrs. Allison as Georgie but addressed her thus, and there was quite a tidy little bill at the florist's for flowers that he had sent her. In one respect only did he exhibit even the most elementary caution-he wrote and signed all his letters to her himself upon the typewriter, and filed copies in the safe.

“So there we are!” he sighed as he gave to Mrs. Allison a somewhat expurgated, or rather emasculated version of the Reverend Winthrop's visit. “We have got to hand him something hot or make up our minds to surrender. In a word we have got to scare him-Georgie.”

And then it was that, like the apocryphal mosquito, the Fat and Skinny Club justified its attempted existence. For the indefatigable Sorg made an unheralded reappearance in the outer office and insisted upon seeing Tutt, loudly asserting that he had reason to believe that if a new application were now made to another judge-whom he knew-it would be more favorably received. Tutt went to the doorway and stood there barring the entrance and expostulating with him.

“All right!” shouted Sorg. “All right! I hear you! But don't tell me that a man named Solomon Swackhamer can change his name to Phillips Brooks Vanderbilt and in the same breath a reputable body of citizens be denied the right to call themselves what they please!”

“He don't understand!” explained Tutt to Georgie, who had listened with wide, dreamy eyes. “He don't appreciate the difference between doing a thing as an individual and as a group.”

“What thing?”

“Why, taking a name.”

“I don't get you,” said Georgie.

“Sorg wanted to call his crowd the Fat and Skinny Club, and the court wouldn't let him-thought it was silly.”

“Well?”

“But he could have called himself Mr. Fat or Mr. Skinny or Mr. Anything Else without having to ask anybody-Oh, I say!”

Tutt had stiffened into sculpture.

“What is it?” demanded Georgie fascinated.

“I've got an idea,” he cried. “You can call yourself anything you like. Why not call yourself Mrs. Winthrop Oaklander?”

“But what good would that do?” she asked vaguely.

“Look here!” directed Tutt. “This is the surest thing you know! Just go up to the Biltmore and register as Mrs. Winthrop Oaklander. You have a perfect legal right to do it. You could call yourself Mrs. Julius Caesar if you wanted to. Take a room and stay there until our young Christian soldier offers you a suitable inducement to move along. Even if you're violating the law somehow his first attempt to make trouble for you will bring about the very publicity he is anxious to avoid. Why, it's marvelous-and absolutely safe? They can't touch you. He'll come across inside of two hours. If he doesn't a word to the reporters will start things in the right direction.”

For a moment Mrs. Allison looked puzzled. Then her beautiful face broke into an enthusiastic classic smile and she laid her little hand softly on his arm.

“What a clever boy you are-Sammy!”

A subdued snigger came from the direction of the desk usually occupied by William. Tutt flushed. It was one thing to call Mrs. Allison “Georgie” in private and another to have her “Sammy” him within hearing of the office force. And just then Miss Wiggin passed by with her nose slightly in the air.

“What a perfectly wonderful idea!” went on Mrs. Allison rapturously. “A perfectly wonderful idea!”

Then she smiled a strange, mysterious, significant smile that almost tore Tutt's heart out by the roots.

“Listen, Sammy,” she whispered, with a new light in those beautiful eyes. “I want five thousand dollars.”

“Five?” repeated Tutt simply. “I thought you wanted ten thousand!”

“Only five from you, Sammy!”

“Me!” he gagged.

“You-dearest!”

Tutt turned blazing hot; then cold, dizzy and sea-sick. His sight was slightly blurred. Slowly he groped for the door and closed it cautiously.

“What-are-you-talking about?” he choked, though he knew perfectly well.

Georgie had thrown herself back in the leather chair by his desk and had opened her gold mesh-bag.

“About five thousand dollars,” she replied with the careful enunciation of a New England school-mistress.

“What five thousand dollars?”

“The five you're going to hand me before I leave this office, Sammy darling,” she retorted dazzlingly.

Tutt's head swam and he sank weakly into his swivel chair. It was incredible that he, a veteran of the criminal bar, should have been so tricked. Instantly, as when a reagent is injected into a retort of chemicals and a precipitate is formed leaving the previously cloudy liquid like crystal, Tutt's addled brain cleared. He was caught! The victim of his own asininity. He dared not look at this woman who had wound him thus round her finger, innocent as he was of any wrongdoing; he was ashamed to think of his wife.

“My Lord!” he murmured, realizing for the first time the depth of his weakness.

“Oh, it isn't as bad as that!” she laughed. “Remember you were going to charge Oaklander ten thousand. This costs you only five. Special rates for physicians and lawyers!”

“And suppose I don't choose to give it to you?” he asked.

“Listen here, you funny little man!” she answered in caressing tones that made him writhe. “You'd stand for twenty if I insisted on it. Oh, don't jump! I'm not going to. You're getting off easy-too easy. But I want to stay on good terms with you. I may need you sometime in my business. Your certified check for five thousand dollars-and I leave you.”

She struck a match and started to light a tiny gold-tipped cigarette.

“Don't!” he gasped. “Not in the office.”

“Do I get the five thousand?”

He ground his teeth, not yet willing to concede defeat.

“You silly old bird!” she said. “Do you know how many times you've had me down here in your office in the last three weeks? Fifteen. How many times you've taken me out to lunch? Ten. How often you've called me on the telephone? Eighty-nine How many times you've sent me flowers? Twelve. How many letters you've written me? Eleven! Oh, I realize they're typewritten, but a photograph enlargement would show they were typed in your office. Every typewriter has its own individuality, you know. Your clerks and office boy have heard me call you Sammy. Why, every time you've moved with me beside you someone has seen you. That's enough, isn't it? But now, on top of all that, you go and hand me exactly what I need on a gold plate.”