“Call Orsini.”
“Loo-weegee Aw-see-nee!”
Luigi Orsini glanced darkly at Ben Potts as he mounted the witness stand, and Mr. Potts returned the glance with Nordic severity.
“What was your occupation on June 19, 1926, Orsini?”
“I work for Miz’ Bell’my.”
“In what capacity?”
“What you say?”
“What was your job?”
“I am what you call handy—do everything there is to do.”
The spacious gesture implied Gargantuan labours and super-human abilities. A small, thick, stocky individual, swarthy and pompadoured, with lustrous eyes, a glittering smile, and a magnificent barytone voice, he suggested without any effort whatever infinite possibilities in the rôle of either tragedian or comedian. The redoubtable Farr eyed him with a trace of well-justified apprehension.