At this juncture the client in question caught sight of Morris and ripped out so strong an Italian expletive that the court interpreter nearly swooned.
"What business is he in?" the magistrate asked.
"He's in the banking business on Mulberry Street," the lawyer continued, "and it's impossible to say what harm all this may do him."
"Call the case again," the magistrate said.
"Witnesses in the case of Giuseppe Caraccioli please step forward," the interpreter announced, and the policeman in the rear of the courtroom repeated the injunction to the loungers in the stairway.
"Guy-seppy Scratch-oly," he bellowed, and Morris heard him from his seat in the enclosure for counsel. He jumped to his feet and made for the gate.
"Where are you going?" Sholy demanded, grabbing him by the coat.
"Leggo my coat!" Morris cried, and the next moment he was taking the stairs three at a jump. Nor had his excitement abated when he burst into his cutting room half an hour later.
"Henry," he gasped, "if I would get your money back for you would you stick out the busy season for us?"
Enrico was chalking designs on a piece of pattern paper when Morris entered. Beyond a slight pallor he appeared to be quite resigned to his loss, but at his employer's words he flushed vividly and clutched again at his hair.