he merry-go-round drew himself up indignantly.

"Me? No!"

"Weren't you convicted of assault on a man named Rafoul Rabyaz?"

"Me? Look here, sir! I tell you 'bout dat! This Rafoul Rabyaz he my
partner, see, in pool, billiard and cigar business on Greenwich Street.
This long time ago. Years ago. We split up. I sell heem my shares, see.
I open next door--pool table, cafe and all. But I not get full half the
stock. I not get the tablecloth, see. I was of the tablecloth you know
short. It don't be there. I go back there that time. I see heem. I say,
'We don't count those tablecloth.' He say, 'Yes.' I say,'No.' He
say,'Yes.' I say 'No.' He say, 'Yes.' I say, 'No'--"

"For heaven's sake," exclaimed Judge Wetherell, "don't say that again!"

"Yes, sair," agreed the showman. "All right. I say, 'No.' I say, 'You
look in the book.' He say, 'No.' We each take hold of the cloth. I have
a knife. I cut cloth in two. I give heem half. I take half. I say, 'You
take half; I take half.' He say, 'Go to hell!'"

He waved his hand definitively.

"Well?" inquired Mr. Tutt anxiously.

"Dat's all!" answered Mr. Kahoots.

One of the jurymen suddenly coughed and thrust his handkerchief into his
mouth.

"Then you stuck your knife into him, didn't you?" suggested Mr. Tutt.

"Me? No!"

Mr. Tutt shrugged his shoulders and pursed his lips.

"You were convicted, weren't you?"

"I call twenty witness!" announced Mr. Kahoots with a grand air.

"You don't need to!" retorted Mr. Tutt. "Now tell us why you had to
leave Syria?"

"I go in camel business at Coney Island," answered the witness demurely.

"What!" shouted the lawyer. "Didn't you run away from home because you
were convicted of the murder of Fatima, the daughter of Abbas?"

"Me? No!" Mr. Kahoots looked shocked.

Mr. Tutt bent over and spoke to Bonnie Doon, who produced from a leather
bag a formidable document on parchment-like paper covered with
inscriptions in Arabic and adorned with seals and ribbons.

"I have here, Your Honor," said he, "the record of this man's conviction
in the Criminal Court in Beirut, properly exemplified by our consuls and
the embassy at Constantinople. I have had it translated, but if Mr.
Pepperill prefers to have the interpreter read it--"

"Show it to the district attorney!" directed His Honor.

Pepperill looked at it helplessly.

"You may read your own translation," said the court drowsily.

Mr. Tutt bowed, took up the paper and faced the j