"Gentlemen of the jury," he began haltingly, "this defendant seems to have been indicted for the crime of practising medicine without a license--a misdemeanor. I don't see exactly how he gets into this court, which is supposed to try only felony cases, but I assume my old friend Tutt made a motion to transfer the case from the Special to the General Sessions on the theory that he would stand more chance with a jury than three--er--hardened judges. Well, maybe he will--I don't know! I gather from the papers that Mr. Lowry here, after holding himself out to be a properly licensed veterinary, treated a horse belonging to the complainant. It is not a very serious offense, and you and I have no great interest in the case, but of course the public has got to be protected from charlatans, and the only way to do it is to brand as guilty those who pretend they are duly licensed to practise medicine when they are not. If you had a sick baby, Mr. Foreman, and you saw a sign 'A.S. Smith, M.D., Children's Specialist,' you would want to be sure you were not going to hire a plumber, eh? You see! That's all there is to this case!" "All there is to this case!" murmured Mr. Tutt audibly, raising his eyes ceilingward. "Step up here, Mr. Brown." Mr. Brown, the supposed Doctor Simon whose horse Danny had attended, seated himself complacently in the witness chair and bowed to the jury in a professional manner. He had, he told them, been a detective employed by the state board of health for over sixteen years. It was his duty to go round and arrest people who pretended to be licensed practitioners of medicine and assumed to doctor other people and animals. There were a lot of 'em, too; the jury would be surprised-- Mr. Tutt objected to their surprise and it was stricken out by order of the court. "I'll strike out 'and there are a lot of 'em, too,' if you say so, Mr. Tutt," offered the court, smiling, but Mr. Tutt shook his head. "No; let it stand!" said he significantly. "Let it stand!" "Well, anyway," continued Mr. Brown, "this here defendant Lowry, as he calls himself, is well known--" Objected to and struck out. "Well, this here defendant makes a practise--" "Strike it out! What did he do?" snapped the octogenarian baboon on the bench. "I'm tellin' you, judge," protested Brown vigorously. "This here defendant--" "You've said that three times!" retorted the baboon. "Get along, can't you? What did he do?" "He treated my horse for spavin here in New York at 500 West 24th Street at my request on the twentieth of last March and I paid him five dollars. He said he was a licensed veterinary and he gave me his card. Here it is." "Well, why didn't you say so before?" remarked the judge more amiably. "Let me see the card. All right! Anything more, Mr. Hingman?" But Mr. Hingman had long before this subsided into his chair and was emitting sounds like those from a saxophone.