Chapter 25

T. Otis hurried on to the end of the car, and bending coquettishly over the back of the last chair found himself staring into the wrinkled face of old Mr. Tutt. “How d’y’do?” remarked the lawyer. “What sort of a game is this?” gasped T. Otis suddenly feeling very ill. “Game, my dear sir?” murmured Mr. Tutt innocently. “Game? I don’t understand——Oh, now I remember you! You’re the man who owes my client Barrington fifty thousand dollars, aren’t you? Oh, yes, of course!” T. Otis sank weakly on the arm of the adjacent …