Mr. Tutt simultaneously removed his stogy with one hand and his stovepipe with the other.
"I thought we might as well run over my list of cases," he replied. "I can offer you a plea or two if you wish."
"Do I!" ejaculated the D.A., rolling his eyes heavenward. "Let's hear the Roll of Honor."
Mr. Tutt placed his hat, bottom side up, on the carpet and lowered himself into a huge leather armchair, furnished to the county by a political friend of Mr. Peckham and billed at four hundred per cent of the regular retail price. Then he reinserted the stogy between his lips and produced from his inside pocket a typewritten sheet.
"There's Watkins—murdered his stepmother—indicted seven months ago. Give you murder in the second?"
"I'll take it," assented Peckham, lighting a cigar in a businesslike manner. "What else you got?"
"Joseph Goldstein—burglary. Will you give him grand larceny in the second?"
The Honorable Peckham shook his head.
"Sorry I can't oblige you, old top," he said regretfully. "He's called the King of the Fences. If I did, the papers would holler like hell. I'll make it any degree of burglary, though."
"Very well. Burglary in the third," agreed Mr. Tutt, jotting it down. "Then here's a whole bunch—five—indicted together for assault on a bartender."