Transcriber's note:

 Quotation marks have been added to block quotes set in smaller type. 

 The text of signs and business cards was set in box rules, which have been omitted. 

 Typographical errors have been corrected; 19th-century spellings have been retained. 

 LoC call number: PS3539. R15C7

THE CONFESSIONS OFARTEMAS QUIBBLE

BEING THE INGENUOUS AND UNVARNISHED HISTORY OF ARTEMAS QUIBBLE, ESQUIRE, ONE-TIME PRACTITIONER IN THE NEW YORK CRIMINAL COURTS, TOGETHER WITH AN ACCOUNT OF THE DIVERS WILES, TRICKS, SOPHISTRIES, TECHNICALITIES, AND SUNDRY ARTIFICES OF HIMSELF AND OTHERS OF THEFRATERNITY, COMMONLY YCLEPT "SHYSTERS" OR "SHYSTER LAWYERS, " ASEDITEDBYARTHUR TRAINFORMERLY ASSISTANT DISTRICT ATTORNEYNEW YORK COUNTY

ILLUSTRATED

NEW YORKCHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS1922

COPYRIGHT, 1911, BYCHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS

PRINTED ATTHE SCRIBNER PRESSNEW YORK, U. S. A. 

ILLUSTRATIONS [omitted]

THE CONFESSIONS OFARTEMAS QUIBBLE

CHAPTER I

I was born in the town in Lynn, Massachusetts, upon the twenty-second day of February, in the year 1855. Unlike most writers ofsimilar memoirs, I shall cast no aspersions upon the indigent bystating that my parents were poor but honest. They were poor _and_honest, as indeed, so far as I have been able to ascertain, havebeen all the Quibbles since the founder of the family came over onthe good ship _Susan and Ellen_ in 1635, and, after marrying alady's maid who had been his fellow passenger, settled in thetownship of Weston, built a mill, and divided his time equallybetween selling rum to the Indians and rearing a numerous progeny. 

My father, the Reverend Ezra Quibble, was, to be sure, poor enough. The salary that he received as pastor of his church was meagre tothe degree of necessitating my wearing his over-worn and discardedclerical vestments, which to some extent may account for my otherwiseinexplicable distaste for things ecclesiastical. My mother waspoor, after wedlock, owing to the eccentricity of a parent who wasso inexorably opposed to religion that he cut her off with a shillingupon her marriage to my father. Before this she had had and donewhat she chose, as was fitting for a daughter of a substantialcitizen who had made a fortune in shoe leather. 

I remember that one of my first experiments upon taking up thestudy of law was to investigate by grandfather's will in the probateoffice, with a view to determining whether or not, in his furyagainst the church, he had violated any of the canons of the lawin regard to perpetuities or restraints upon alienation; or whetherin his enthusiasm for the Society for the Propagation of FreeThinking, which he had established and intended to perpetuate, hehad not been guilty of some technical slip or blunder that wouldenable me to seize upon its endowment for my own benefit. But thewill, alas! had been drawn by that most careful of draughtsmen, old Tuckerman Toddleham, of 14 Barristers' Hall, Boston, and wasas solid as the granite blocks of the court-house and as impregnableof legal attack as the Constitution. 

We lived in a frame house, painted a disconsolate yellow. Itabutted close upon the sidewalk and permitted the passer-by to viewthe family as we sat at meat or enjoyed the moderate delights ofsocial intercourse with our neighbors, most of whom were likewiseparishioners of my father. 

My early instruction was received in the public schools of my nativetown, supplemented by tortured hours at home with "Greenleaf'sMental Arithmetic" and an exhaustive study of the major and minorprophets. The former stood me in good stead, but the latter I fearhad small effect. At any rate, the impression made upon me borelittle fruit, and after three years of them I found myself in aboutthe same frame of mind as the Oxford student who, on being askedat his examination to distinguish between the major and minorprophets, wrote in answer: "God forbid that I should discriminatebetween such holy men!"

But for all that I was naturally of a studious and even scholarlydisposition, and much preferred browsing among the miscellaneousbooks piled in a corner of the attic to playing the rough-and-tumblegames in which my school-mates indulged. 

My father was a stern, black-bearded man of the ante-bellum type, such as you may see in any old volume of daguerreotypes, and entirelyunblessed with a sense of humor. I can even now recall with asinking of the heart the manner in which, if I abjured my food, hewould grasp me firmly by the back of the neck and force my nosetoward the plate of Indian mush--which was the family staple atsupper--with the command, "Eat, boy!" Sometimes he was kind to adegree which, by a yawning of the imagination, might be regardedas affectionate, but this was only from a sense of religious duty. At such times I was prone to distrust him even more than at others. He believed in a personal devil with horns, a tail, and, I suspect, red tights; and up to the age of ten I shared implicitly in thisbelief. The day began and ended with family prayers of a particularlylong-drawn-out and dolorous character. 

My mother, on the other hand, was a pale young woman of an undecidedturn of mind with a distinct taste for the lighter pleasures thatshe was never allowed to gratify. I think she secretly longed forthe freedom that had been hers under the broader roof of her father'sstately mansion on High Street. But she had, I suspect, neitherthe courage nor the force of mind to raise an issue, and from sheerinertia remained faithful to the life that she had elected. 

My grandfather never had anything to do with either of them anddid not, so far as I am aware, know me by sight, which may accountfor the fact that when he died he bequeathed a moderate sum intrust, "the proceeds to be devoted to the support and maintenanceof the child of my daughter Sarah, at some suitable educationalinstitution where he may be removed from the influences of hisfather. "

Thus it was that at the age of nine I was sent away from home andbegan an independent career at the boarding-school kept by theReverend Mr. Quirk, at Methuen, Massachusetts. Here I remainedfor seven years, in the course of which both my parents died, victims of typhoid. I was cast upon the world utterly alone, savefor the rather uncompromising and saturnine regard in which I washeld by old Mr. Toddleham, my trustee. This antique gentlemaninhabited a musty little office, the only furniture in whichconsisted of a worn red carpet, a large engraving of the Hon. Jeremiah Mason, and a table covered with green baize. I recallalso a little bronze horse which he used as a paper weight. Hehad a shrewd wrinkled face of the color of parchment, a thick yellowwig, and a blue cape coat. His practice consisted almost entirelyin drawing wills and executing them after the decease of theirrespective testators, whom he invariably outlived, and I think heregarded me somewhat in the light of a legal joke. He used to sendfor me twice a year, for the sole purpose, I believe, of ascertainingwhether or not I was sufficiently nourished at Quirk's establishment. On these occasions he would take me to lunch with him at the ParkerHouse, where he invariably ordered scallops and pumpkin pie for meand a pint of port for himself. 

On my departure he would hand me solemnly two of the pieces ofpaper currency known as "shin plasters, " and bid me always hold mygrandfather's memory in reverence. On one of these occasions, whenhe had laid me under a similar adjuration, I asked him whether hehad ever heard of the man who made his son take off his hat wheneverhe met a pig--on the ground that his father had made his money inpork. He stared at me very hard for a moment with his littletwinkling eyes and then suddenly and without any preliminary symptomsexploded in a cackle of laughter. 

"Goddamme, " he squeaked, "I wish your gran'ther could a' heard y'say that!"

Then without further explanation he turned and made his way downSchool Street and I did not see him for another six months. 

My life at Quirk's was a great improvement over the life I had ledat home in Lynn. In the first place I was in the real country, and in the second I had the companionship of good-natured, light-hearted people. The master himself was of the happy-go-lucky sortwho, with a real taste for the finer things of literature and life, take no thought for the morrow or indeed even for the day. He wasentirely incapable of earning a living and had been successivelyan actor, a lecturer, a preacher, and a pedagogue. He was a finescholar of Latin and could quote Terence, Horace, and Plautus ina way that could stir the somnolent soul even of a school-boy. His chief enemy, next to laziness, was drink. He would disappearfor days at a time into his study, and afterward explain that hehad been engaged in the preparation of his _magnum opus_, whichperiodically was just on the point of going to press. 

During these interludes the school was run by Mrs. Quirk, a robust, capable, and rosy Englishwoman, who had almost as much learning asher husband and ten times as much practical ability. There weretwelve boys in the school, for each of whom the Quirks receivedthe modest sum of two hundred and seventy-five dollars a year. Inexchange for this they gave board, lodging, and tuition. Each ofus received separate instruction--or as Quirk expressed it "individualattention"--and excellent instruction it was. We arose at six, breakfasted at six-thirty, and helped around the house until eight, when our studies began. These continued until twelve, at whichtime we had dinner. After that we were free until two-thirty, whenwe resumed our labors until four. 

Quirk was a tall, lank, loose-jointed man, with long black hairthat lay well over his Byronic collar. He had a humorous eye anda cavernous mouth that was always twisting itself into grimaces, alternately side-splitting and terrifying. On occasions he woulduse the birch--and very thoroughly, too, as I have reason to remember--but he ruled us by fear of authority. For though he dressed likea clergyman, he always smelled strongly of stale cigar smoke, andhis language at times was more forcible than is generally expectedof a wearer of the cloth. 

I dwelt with the Quirks, winter and summer, until I was able topass my examinations for Harvard, which I did in the summer of1871. My allowance had been gradually increased to meet my newexpenses, and I entered the freshman class with an income sufficientto permit me to dress suitably and enjoy myself in such simple waysas were in vogue among the collegians. But coming as I did, alone, from a small boarding-school, proved to be a great disadvantage, for I had all my friends to make after my arrival and I had neitherthe means nor the address to acquire ready-made social distinction. Thus it happened that I was very lonely during my first years inCambridge; missed the genial companionship of my old friends, theQuirks, and seized every opportunity that offered for going backto Methuen. 

I had grown into a tall, narrow-shouldered youth, with a high-archednose between rather pale cheeks, and prominent ears. Though Icould hardly flatter myself into the belief that I was handsome, I felt that my appearance had something of distinction and that Ilooked like a gentleman. I affected coats with long tails and asomewhat dandified style of waistcoat and neck-cloth, as well asa white beaver, much in favor among the "bloods" of those days. But this took most of my available cash, and left me little toexpend in treating my fellow students at the tavern or in enjoyingthe more substantial culinary delights of the Boston hotels. Thusthough I made no shabby friends I acquired few genteel ones, andI began to feel keenly the disadvantages of a lean purse. I waselected into none of the clubs, nor did I receive any invitationsto the numerous balls given in Boston or even to those in Cambridge. This piqued my pride, to be sure, but only intensified my resolutionto become a man of fashion on my own account. If my classmatescould get on without me I felt that I could get on without them, and I resolutely declined to appreciate any social distinction thatmight artificially exist between a man born in Salem and one bornin Lynn, although I now understand that such distinction exists, at least so far as Boston society is concerned. Consequently astime went on and I could achieve prominence in no other way, Isought consolation for the social joys denied by my betters inacquiring the reputation of a sport. I held myself coldly alooffrom the fashionable men of my class and devoted myself to a fewcronies who found themselves in much the same position as my own. In a short time we became known as the fastest set in college, andour escapades were by no means confined to Cambridge, but werecarried on with great impartiality in Boston and the neighboringtowns. 

We organized a club, which we called the Cock and Spur, and had arat-pit and cock-fights in the cellar, on which occasions we invitedout young actors from the Boston Museum and Howard Athenaeum stockcompanies. These in turn pressed us with invitations to similarfestivities of their own, and we thus became acquainted with thehalf-world of the modern Athens, which was much worse for us, Itrow, than would have been the most desperate society of our collegecontemporaries. There was a club of young actors that we used tofrequent, where light comedy sketches and scenes from famous playswere given by the members, and in due time several of us wereadmitted to membership. Of these I was one and learned to do aturn very acceptably. On one occasion I took a small part uponthe Boston Museum stage to fill the place made vacant by the illnessof a regular member of the cast--an illness due in part to a carousalat the Cock and Spur the night before, in which he had come outsecond best. 

We were a clever crew, however, and never gave the faculty reasonto complain of any failure on our part to keep up in our studies. When examination time came we hired an impecunious coach and, retiring from the world, acquired in five days knowledge that ourfellows had taken eight months to imbibe. It is true that thecollege at large viewed us with some disgust, but we chose to regardthis as mere envy. That we were really objectionable must, however, be admitted, for we smoked cigars in the Yard, wore sky-bluepantaloons and green waistcoats, and cultivated little side whiskersof the mutton-chop variety; while our gigs and trotters wereconstantly to be seen standing in Harvard Square, waiting for theowners to claim them and take the road. 

On Sundays, when the decorous youths of Boston had retired to BeaconStreet for their midday family feast of roast beef and baked beans, the members of the Cock and Spur might be observed in their whitebeaver hats driving countryward in chaises from the local liverystables, seated beside various fair ladies from the Boston stageor the less distinguished purlieus of the Cambridge chop-houses. At noon these parties would foregather at some country tavern andspend long afternoons singing, drinking, and playing draw pokerand other games of chance; and occasionally we would fight a mainof cocks in some convenient pig-pen. 

But this sort of life took money, and I soon found myself borrowingfreely from my associates, most of whom were young fellows fromother States who had already come into their inheritances and hadgone to Harvard to get rid of them under the most approved conditions. For these I came to stand as a sort of sponsor, and was looked upto by them as a devil of a fellow, for I swore picturesquely andhad a belligerently unpleasant manner that was regarded as somethingquite out of the ordinary and distinguished. These youthfulspendthrifts I patronized and taught the mysteries of a sportinglife, and for a time it became quite smart for a fellow to havegone on one of "Quib's" notes. These notes, however, increasedrapidly in number, and before long amounted to such a prodigioussum that they gave me great uneasiness. 

My habits had become extravagant and careless. Having no money atall I took no heed of what I did with that of others, for I hardlybelieved that I could ever repay any of it. But I continued on inmy luxurious ways, well knowing that any change in my mode of lifewould precipitate a deluge. The safety of my position lay in owingeverybody, and in inducing each to believe that he would be theone person ultimately or immediately to be paid. Moreover, I wasnow completely spoiled and craved so ardently the enjoyments inwhich I had indulged that I would never of myself have had the willto abjure them. I had gained that which I sought--reputation. Iwas accounted the leader of the fast set--the "All Knights" as wewere known--and I was the envy and admiration of my followers. But this bred in me an arrogance that proved my undoing. It wasnecessary for me to be masterful in order to carry off the pose ofleadership, but I had not yet learned when to conciliate. 

It so happened that in the spring of my junior year my creditorsbecame more than usually pressing, and at the same time a Jew bythe name of Poco Abrahams began to threaten suit on a note of minefor two thousand dollars, which I had discounted with him for sevenhundred and fifty. I made my usual demands upon my friends andoffered to do them the favor of letting them go on some more of mypaper, but without the usual result. I then discovered to myannoyance that a wealthy young fellow know as "Buck" de Vries, whohad considered himself insulted by something that I had said ordone, had been quietly spreading the rumor that I was a sort ofhocus-pocus fellow and practically bankrupt, that my pretensionsto fashion were ridiculous, and that I made a business of livingoff other people. Incidentally he had gone the rounds, and, owingto the rumors that he himself had spread, had succeeded in buyingup most of my notes at a tremendous discount. These he lost notime in presenting for payment, and as they amounted to severalthousand dollars my hope of reaching a settlement with him wassmall. In point of fact I was quite sure that he wanted no settlementand desired only revenge, and I realized what a fool I had been tomake an enemy out of one who might have been an ally. 

In this embarrassing situation I bethought me of old Mr. Toddleham, and accordingly paid him an unexpected visit at Barristers' Hall. It was a humid spring day, and I recall that the birds were twitteringloudly in the maples back of the Probate Office. As befitted mystation at the time of year, I was arrayed in a new beaver and aparticularly fanciful pair of rather tight trousers. 

"Come in, " squeaked Mr. Toddleham, and I entered easily. 

The old lawyer peered quizzically at me from behind his square-boned spectacles. 

"Oh, " said he, "it's you, Master Quibble. "

"The same, and your most obedient, " I replied, letting myself fallgracefully into a chair and crossing my legs. 

"You want money, I suppose?" he continued, after a few minutes, during which he inspected by get-up with some interest. 

"Well, " I commenced lightly, "the fact is I am rather pressed. Ithought if you could make me a small advance out of my grandfather'slegacy--"

"Legacy! What legacy?" he inquired. 

"The legacy my grandfather left me. "

"He left you no legacy, " retorted the old gentleman. "Yourgrandfather, to whom you were once so considerate as to refer inmy presence as a pig, left you no legacy. He directed that as longas you seemed to deserve it I should spend a certain sum on yourmaintenance and education. "

"Gad!" I cried. "That puts me in a nice position!"

The old lawyer looked at me whimsically. 

"My gay young man, " he remarked finally, "the only position youoccupy is one into which you have deliberately walked yourself. You come here in your fine clothes and your beaver hat and--excuseme--your whiskers, and you are surprised that there is no moneyforthcoming to pay your debts. Do not look astonished. I knowand have known for a long time of your debts. I have followed yourcareer with attention if not with edification. Even for the sonof a Baptist minister you have done pretty well. However, life islife and everybody is not the same. I sha'n't judge you. I wasa bit of a dog myself, although I don't look it now. But I cangive you no more money for game-cocks and cigars. It is time foryou to start in and earn your own living--if you can. At the endof the term I will give you fifty dollars and a ticket to New York, or one hundred dollars and no ticket to anywhere. You will haveto kick out for yourself. So fine a fellow, " he added, "ought notto find it hard to get along. No doubt you could find some richgirl to marry you and support you in idleness. "

I flushed with anger and sprang to my feet. 

"I did not come here to be insulted!" I cried furiously. 

Old Mr. Toddleham chuckled apologetically. 

"Tut, tut! No offence. You won't find earning your living suchan easy matter. Have you thought anything about what you'll do?"

"No, " I answered, still indignant. 

"How much do you owe?"

"About forty-eight hundred dollars. "

"Damme!" muttered Mr. Tuckerman Toddleham. "More than you couldearn in the first five years at the law!"

"See here, " I interrupted, "do you seriously mean that except forfifty dollars or so there is nothing coming to me out of mygrandfather's estate? Why, he was worth over a million!"

"That is exactly what I mean, " he returned. "He left you nothingexcept an allowance for your education during your good behavior. He made me the judge. I'm your trustee and I can't conscientiouslylet you have any more money to drink up and gamble with. It's overand done with. " He rapped with an air of finality on his desk withthe little bronze horse. 

"Who gets all the money?" I asked ruefully. 

"The Society for the Propagation of Free Thinking, " he answered, eyeing me sharply. 

"I should think anything like that ought to be contrary to law!"I retorted. "It ought to be a crime to encourage atheism. "

"It's a good devise under our statutes!" he answered dryly. "Isuppose your own faith is beautiful enough, eh?"

I did not respond, but sat twisting my hat in my hands. Throughthe open window the soft damp odors of spring came in and mingledwith the dusty smell of law books. So this was law! It suddenlystruck me that I was taking the loss of over a million dollars veryresignedly. How did I know whether the old boy was telling me thetruth or not? He had drawn the will and got a good fee for it. Certainly he was not going to admit that there was anything invalidabout it. Why not study law--I might as well do that as anything--and find out for myself? It was a game worth playing. The stakeswere a million dollars and the forfeit nothing. As I looked aroundthe little office and at the weazened old barrister before me, something of the fascination of the law took hold of me. 

"I rather think I should like to study law myself, " I remarked. 

He looked at me out of the corners of his bead-like little eyes. 

"And break your gran'ther's will, mebbe?" he inquired slyly. 

"If I can, " I retorted defiantly. 

"That would be better than fighting cocks and frittering your timeaway with play actors, " said he. 

"Mr. Toddleham, " I returned, "if I will agree to turn over a newleaf and give up my present associates, will you continue myallowance and let me stay on in Cambridge and study law?"

"If you will agree to enter my office and study under my supervision--yes. "

Once more I glanced around the little room. Somehow the smell ofdecaying leather did not have the same fascination that it hadexercised a few moments before. The setting sun sinking over theProbate Office entered the window and lingered on the stern oldface of the Hon. Jeremiah Mason over the fireplace. The birdstwittered gayly amid the branches by the window. Spring called meto the open air, to the world outside, to the future. 

"Give me fifty dollars and my ticket to New York, " said I. 

It had so happened that at the time of my visit to Mr. Toddlehammy credit, and consequently my ready funds, had become so reducedthat I had only a dollar or two in my pocket. Therefore the checkfor fifty dollars that the old gentleman had carefully drawn forme with his quill pen and then had as carefully sanded over was byno means inopportune. I took the shore-car back over the WarrenAvenue Bridge, depressed at the thought of leaving the scene of myfirst acquaintance with the world and at the same time somewhatrelieved, in spite of myself, by the consoling thought that I shouldno longer be worried by the omnipresent anxiety of trying to escapefrom duns and Jews. 

Resolved to terminate my collegiate career in a blaze of glory, Iwent the rounds of the college buildings and bade all my friendsto a grand celebration at the Tavern, where, owing to the largeamount of trade that I had been able to swing to it, my credit wasstill good. Even "Buck" de Vries was not forgotten, and withouta suggestion of my contemplated departure I entertained my colleaguesroyally with a bowl of punch brewed after a celebrated Cambridgerecipe, which in a decadent age spoke eloquently of the glories ofthe past. I was in the midst of a highly colored speech--duringwhich I must confess de Vries had eyed me in a somewhat saturninemanner--when the proprietor tapped me on the shoulder and said thatI was wanted outside. Excusing myself I stepped to the door onlyto be unexpectedly confronted by the local sheriff, who apologeticallyinformed me that he held a warrant of attachment for my worldlygoods and another for the arrest of my very worldly person. Withadmirable presence of mind I requested his patience until I shouldfind my coat, and returning via the buttery made my escape fromthe premises by means of the rear exit. _Sic gloria transit!_That night I slept under the roof of the amiable Quirk in Methuen, and the day after reached New York, the city of my future career. 

CHAPTER II

My arrival in the metropolis was unaccompanied by any newspapercomment or by any particular excitement on the part of the inhabitants. I simply landed, after a seven hours' journey from Boston, with aconsiderable quantity of fine raiment--rather too fine, as I soondiscovered, for the ordinary uses of a serious-minded, workingyouth--some fifty odd dollars, and a well-developed bump of self-confidence that was supported by a strong reserve resolution notto let anybody get ahead of me. I had all the assurance of a mandouble my years and an easy way of making acquaintances that wasdestined to stand me in good stead, but I do not wish to be understoodas admitting that my manners were offensive or that I was in anydegree supercilious. I was simply a good fellow who had alwaysenjoyed the comradeship of other good fellows, and as a result feltreasonably sure that the rest of the world would treat him kindly. Moreover, I could dissemble without difficulty and, if occasionarose, could give the impression of being a diffident and modestyoung man, ready and anxious to order himself "lowly and humblybefore his betters. "

Yet I had seen enough of the world to know that unless a man putsa high appraisal upon his attainments and ability no one else islikely to do so, and that the public takes one, nine times out often, at his own valuation. Coming on the clay itself: I wore myhair rather long, with an appreciable modicum of bear's grease wellrubbed in, side whiskers and white beaver, and carried a carpetbag on which was embroidered a stag's head in yellow on a backgroundof green worsted. And the principal fact to be observed in thisconnection is that, instead of creating a smile as I passed out ofthe Grand Central Station, I was probably regarded as a rathersmart and stylishly dressed young man. 

I had a card to some young actors in the city, given me by myThespian friends in Boston, and it proved but a short trip on thehorse-cars down Fourth Avenue to the locality, near the Academy ofMusic, then as now frequented by the fraternity. I began myprofessional career, then, by taking lodgings in an actors' boarding-house, and I am free to confess that at the time I was undecidedwhether to follow the bar or the boards. I have since frequentlyobserved that the same qualities make for success in both, and hadit not been for the fact that I found my new friends somewhat downat the heels and their rate of emolument exceedingly low, as wellas for a certain little incident to be recounted shortly, I mightwell have joined the group of future Booths and Forrests thatloitered along the near-by Rialto, looking for jobs as Roman soldiersor footmen in some coming production. 

But the change from my well-appointed lodgings in Cambridge and myluxurious surroundings at the Cock and Supr to a distinctly shabbytheatrical boarding-house, where the guests plainly exhibited tracesof the lack of proper ablutional facilities and the hallways smeltof cabbage and onions, was a distinct shock to my highly sensitivetastes. However, my new acquaintances proved warm-hearted andhospitable and did everything in their power to make me feel at myease, with the result that in spite of the cabbage and the woodenslats that served as springs in my bed--which nearly filled therear hall bed-room I had hired for one week at four dollars andtwenty-five cents--I resolved to postpone entering upon an activecareer until I should know the city better and have made a fewfriends. 

Those of my new comrades who were lucky enough to have employmentdid not rise in the morning until the neighborhood of twelve o'clock, and those who had no employment at all followed their example. Ithus found myself adopting of necessity, as it were, the pleasantpractice of sauntering out on Broadway after a one o'clock breakfast, and of spending most of the afternoon, evening, and followingmorning in or about the same locality. We usually went to sometheatrical show on what was known as "paper, " and I afterward joinedmy actor friends at a restaurant, where we sang songs and toldstories until the gas-lamps were extinguished and gray dawn creptover the house-tops. Downtown--into the mysterious district ofWall Street--I did not, as yet, go, and I might still be hauntingthe stage entrances of the theatres had it not been for an adventurein which I was an involuntary participant. 

It so happened that among my new acquaintances was a careless, rattle-brained youth known as Toby Robinson, who in spite of somehistrionic ability was constantly losing his job and always indebt. He was a smooth-faced, rather stout, good-natured-lookingperson, of the sort who is never supposed to have done harm toanybody. Not long before he had enjoyed a salary of fourteendollars per week, but having overslept several times running hehad been discharged for absence from rehearsals. He had reachedthe limit of his resources about the time of my arrival in the cityand had been in a most lugubrious frame of mind when I first hadthe honor of his acquaintance. Suddenly, however, he appeared oneday with a large roll of bills and entered upon a period oflubrication and open-handed hospitality, in which we all participated. During this season of good cheer, as Toby and I were strolling downBroadway one afternoon, an ugly looking man who had been followingus stepped forward and, touching my friend on the shoulder, saidgruffly:

"The captain wants to see you. "

The uttering of these cryptic syllables produced a most extraordinaryeffect upon my companion, for he turned deadly pale and theperspiration collected in beads upon his temples, while he commencedto wring his hands and bemoan his ill fortune. 

"What is the trouble?" I inquired in great solicitude. 

The belligerent stranger, however, pushing between us, grasped Tobyfirmly by the arm and marched him across the street, while I trailedbehind in the nature of a rear guard. I had already begun tosuspect that the ugly man was none other than an officer of thelaw, and visions of myself locked up in jail as a possible accomplice, although innocent of wrong-doing, hovered in my mind. Toby, givingevery indication of guilt, slouched along beside his captor, occasionally glancing shamefacedly over his shoulder. 

We were now nearing a police station, and our companion, for thefirst time showing any sign of personal interest, inquired if wehad a lawyer. On receiving a negative reply, the officer stronglyrecommended our immediately retaining counsel in the person of oneGottlieb, who could be found across the street from the policestation and whose precise whereabout were made obvious by means ofa large sign about six feet by three and one-half in size, readingas follows:

 ABRAHAM GOTTLIEB'S LAW OFFICE NOTARY DEEDS RENTS COLLECTED BAIL BONDS INSURANCE GENERAL ADVICE

Without giving Toby time for consideration the officer led us acrossthe street and into the stuffy little den occupied by the lawyer. 

"Here's the gent I told you of, " said he, nodding in the directionof a hawk-faced little man smoking a vile cigar, who was sittingwith his feet upon a table. "I'll leave you alone, " he added, andsauntering across the threshold, took his stand in front of thewindow outside. 

"Howdy, " remarked Gottlieb, without arising or removing his cigar. "Mike tells me you're charged with obtaining money by falsepretences. "

"What!" gasped Toby, grasping the table for support. "Falsepretences!"

"Flying a bit of bad paper, eh? Come now, didn't you cash a checkon the Cotton Exchange Bank for about six hundred dollars whenthere was only fifteen on deposit? Don't try to bluff me. I knowyour sort. Lucky if you don't get ten years. "

"Save me!" wailed Toby. "Yes, I did cash a check, come to thinkof it, for that amount, but I had no idea my account had run solow. "

Mr. Gottlieb spat into a sawdust box under the table and winkedwith great deliberation. 

"How much have you got left?" he inquired indifferently. 

Tony delved into his breeches and with trembling hands produced aroll of bills still of some dignity. Gottlieb stretched forth aclaw, took them, placed them in his own pocket, and then swung hisfeet to the floor with alacrity. 

"Come on, my lads, " he exclaimed, "and I'll show you how we getthe sinners off! All right, Mike. " And he led the way across thestreet and into the station-house, where poor Toby was searchedand his pedigree taken down by the clerk. It being at this timeonly about eleven in the morning we were then conducted to thenearest police court, where we found in attendance the unfortunatehotel keeper who had so unwisely honored Toby's check. 

"You rascal!" he shouted, struggling to reach my unfortunate friend. "I'll show you how to take other people's money! I'll put youwhere you belong!" But the officers haled him back and he wasforced to restrain himself until the could tell his story to thejudge. This, it so happened, was not to be for several hours, andduring this interval Gottlieb mysteriously vanished and as mysteriouslyreappeared. It was half after three before the judge announcedthat he would take up Toby's case. Now, the judge looked even moreof a rascal than did Gottlieb, which was paying his Honor a highcompliment, and I suspect that it was for this reason that thecomplainant had in the meantime sent round for his own lawyer torepresent him. We were now pushed forward and huddled into a smallspace in front of the rail, while the lawyers took their placesupon the platform before us. 

"Your Honor, " began the lawyer for the hotel man, "this fellow herehas swindled my client out of six hundred dollars by inducing himto cash a worthless check. "

"What have you to say, Mr. Gottlieb?" asked the judge. 

"Confession and avoidance, your Honor, " replied the attorney, withwhat appeared to me to be the slightest possible drawing down ofhis right eyelid. "Confession and avoidance. We admit the fact, but we deny the imputation of guilt. My client, Mr. Robinson, whose abilities as an actor have no doubt hitherto given your Honormuch pleasure, was so careless as to forget the precise amount ofhis bank account and happened to draw a check for too large anamount. No one was more surprised and horrified at the discoverythan he. And his intention is at once to reimburse in full thecomplainant, whose action in having him arrested seems mostextraordinary and reprehensible. "

"Your Honor, " interrupted the other lawyer, "were there the slightestpossibility of any such outcome I should be glad to withdraw thecharge; but, as a matter of fact, this person is a worthless, lazyfellow who has not a cent to his name, and who induced my clientto cash his check by leading him to believe that he was a man ofsubstance and position. No doubt he has spent the money, and ifnot we might as well try to squeeze it out of a stone. This fellowis guilty of a crime and he ought to be punished. I ask your Honorto hold him for the grand jury. "

"Well, Mr. Gottlieb, " remarked the judge, "tell me, if you can, why I should not lock your client up. Did he not falsely pretend, by requesting the complainant to cash the check, that he had moneyin the bank to meet it?"

"By no means, your Honor, " answered Gottlieb. "The proffering ofa check with a request for money thereon is merely asking that themoney be advanced on the faith that the bank will honor the demandmade upon it. One who cashes a check does so at his own risk. Hehas a full remedy at civil law, and if the bank refuses to pay nocrime has been committed. This is not a case for the penal law. "

"That seems reasonable, " said the judge, turning to the other. "How do you make this out a crime? What false pretence is therein merely inviting another to cash a check?"

"Why, " answered the attorney, "if I ask you to cash a check forme, do I not represent that I have a right to draw upon the bankfor the amount set forth? If not, no one would ever cash a check. The innocent person who advances the money has the right to assumethat the borrower is not offering him a bad check. There is atacit representation that the check is good or that the maker hasfunds in the bank to meet it. "

"True--true!" nodded his Honor. "There is something in what yousay. What answer can you make to that, Brother Gottlieb?"

"I have a hundred good arguments, " replied the lawyer in a lowtone. Then he added briskly: "But the intent, your Honor! Therecan be no crime without a wrongful intent; and how can there havebeen any such when my client honestly believed that he had themoney in the bank to meet the check?"

"But, " cried the other, "he knew very well he had not!"

"What evidence have you to that effect?" queried Gottlieb. "Yousay so, to be sure, but I, on the contrary, assert that he wasperfectly honest in the matter. Now, there is absolutely nothingin this case to prove that he had any guilty knowledge to the effectthat his account was too low to meet the draft in question. Youhave proven no scienter whatever. "

"Ah!" exclaimed the judge. "That is it! You have shown noscienter!"

"Exactly!" cried Gottlieb--"no scienter at all. "

"But how in the world could I have proved a scienter?" wrathfullydemanded the lawyer. "I can't pry open the prisoner's skull andexhibit his evil intent. "

"No, but you could have shown that he knew he had only a few dollarsin the bank by the fact that he had previously tried to cash asimilar check and that it had been returned. In any event, my ownmind is clear on the subject. You have shown no scienter. Theprisoner is discharged. "

Poor Toby was so overcome by his unexpected release that he beganto stammer out incoherent expressions of gratitude to the judge, such as "Oh, thank you, your Honor! God bless your Honor! Thankyou, your Honor! I am an innocent man, your Honor!" until Gottlieb, grasping him by the arm, dragged him away from the rail and pushedhim into the street. The complainant and his attorney indignantlyfollowed us, the former loudly deploring the way modern justicewas administered. Once outside Gottlieb shook hands with Toby andtold him if he were ever in trouble again to look him up withoutfail. Toby promised gratefully to do so, and the lawyer was aboutto leave us and enter his office when it occurred to me that hestill had my friend's roll of bills. 

"But, Mr. Gottlieb, " said I, "you are going to return Mr. Robinson'smoney to him, are you not?"

"What!" he exclaimed, growing frightfully angry. "Give him backhis money! I have no money of his. It is he owes me money forkeeping him out of jail. "

"But how about the roll of bills?" I protested. "You certainly donot intend to keep all of that?"

"Certainly--that is my fee, " he retorted calmly; "and small enoughit is too!"

"How much was there in that roll, Toby?" I asked. 

"About five hundred dollars, " answered my friend. "But let himkeep it, by all means!"

"Why, " I exclaimed, "he has done nothing to earn such a fee. Hemerely got up and said that you had no scienter--whatever that is. It is not worth more than ten dollars. "

"Ten dollars!" shouted Gottlieb. "Ten dollars! Why scienter isone of the most complicated and technical defences known to thelaw. Ten dollars! Scienter is worth a thousand! Your rascallyfriend got his money for nothing, didn't he? He's lucky to beoutside the bars--for if I ever saw a guilty man he's one. Getalong, both of you, or I'll call an officer!"

And with that Gottlieb slipped inside his office and banged thedoor. 

"Come along, Quib!" urged Tony; "there's a great deal of truth inwhat he says. I don't begrudge it to him. It was well worth itto me. "

"Lord!" I groaned. "Five hundred dollars just for scienter. Ifthat is the law, then I'll turn lawyer. "

And with that idea growing more firmly each moment in my mind Ireturned to the boarding-house with my friend. 

CHAPTER III

I am free to confess that the ease with which Counsellor Gottliebhad deprived my friend Toby of the ill-gotten proceeds of his check--or, for his sake putting it more politely, had earned his fee--was the chief and inducing cause that led me to adopt the law asa career. I shall not pretend that I had any lofty aims or ambitions, felt any regard for its dignity or fascination for the mysteriesof its science when I selected it for my profession. My objectswere practical--my ambition to get the largest financial returnconsonant with the least amount of work. My one concrete experienceof the law had opened my eyes to its possibilities in a way thatI had never dreamed of, and I resolved to lose no time in placingmyself in a position to rescue others from harm on the same pecuniarybasis as did Mr. Gottlieb. 

Of course I realized that I must serve an apprenticeship, and indeedthe law required that were I not a graduate of a law school thatI must have worked as a clerk for two years before I could beadmitted to the bar. Accordingly I began to make inquiries as towhat were the best law firms in the city, and before long hadacquired pretty definite information as to who were and who werenot in high standing. Now, I had no letters of introduction andnothing to recommend me except a certain degree of maturity and acultivated manner of speaking, and I might and probably should havebeen trying to this day to break into some sedate and high-tonedold-fogy office had it not been for one of those accidents withwhich my career has been replete. 

I had visited all the firms on my list without finding any whowanted to take in a student. Indeed all the offices seemed filledif not crowded with studious-looking young men whose noses wereburied in law books. In one or two, to be sure, I might havesecured admittance and been given desk room in exchange for theservices of my legs as a runner of errands and a server of papers, but none had any idea of paying anything. The profession at thebottom was more overcrowded than the gallery of the Academy ofMusic when they ran Rosedale. Each night as I returned to mylodgings I felt more and more discouraged. Its smell of cabbagecame to have for me an inexpressible sensation of relief, ofprotection, even of luxury. Here, at any rate, even in an actors'boarding-house, I was independent, as good as anybody, and notregarded as if I were a beggar on the one hand or a questionablecharacter on the other. 

How long this might have continued I have no means of knowing, butone afternoon as I was trudging uptown, still holding in my handa copy of a legal journal, the advertisements in which I had beenengaged in sedulously running down, my attention was attracted bya crowd gathered in the street around a young man who had been sounfortunate as to be run over by a stage. There was nothing externalto indicate the extent of his injuries, and as I drew nearer twopersons assisted him to his feet and began to lead him toward thenearest store. Having nothing better to do I walked along withthem, and after they had gone inside remained looking curiouslythrough the window. While I was thus engaged a stout, bustlingman of about forty years of age came hurrying down the sidewalkand turned to enter the store. As he did he observed me apparentlywaiting there and his eye with a quick glance took in the title ofthe paper in my hand. Instantly he stepped up beside me and tappingme on the arm said in a low tone:

"Whom do you represent?"

I was somewhat taken aback by this inquiry, not seeing at the momentits immediate relation to the business at hand, but for want of abetter answer I replied in the same spirit:

"Artemas Quibble. "

"Oh! Quibble, eh! I've heard of him. But look here, my youngfriend, there is no reason why honest men should cut one another'sthroats. Tell my friend Quibble I was here before ye and keep thisfor yourself. "

And with that he peeled a twenty-dollar bill from the top of aheavy roll that he produced from his pocket and placed it withinmy palm. 

"Very good, " said I. "It may cost me dear if Quibble hears of it, but a man must live, and I work at starvation wages. "

I placed the bill in my breast pocket and made way for him to enterthe store, which he did without more ado. Why this busy gentlemanshould gratuitously present me with twenty dollars did not at themoment occur to me. I continued on my way northward, ponderingupon the question, and passed the street upon which the policecourt was located and Counsellor Gottlieb had his office. Thethought came into my mind that here was the very person to shedlight upon the subject and I turned the corner and opened the door. Gottlieb was in his customary position with his feet elevated uponthe table before him. 

"Well, " he said, "I didn't expect you back so soon. "

"I've come for free advice this time, " I answered. 

"Oh, " he grunted. "Well, in that case perhaps you won't get it. "

Somehow I had taken a shine to the fellow, for all his robbery ofpoor Toby, and I admired his quickness of perception and readinessof speech. Perhaps he too felt not unkindly toward me. At anyrate I told him my story. 

"Now, " says I, "what d'ye make of it?"

Gottlieb laughed. 

"Was he a fat little turkey with gray eyes?" he inquired. 

"The same, " I replied. 

"Then it was Tom Kelly, " he answered. "On his daily still huntfor the maimed, the halt and the blind. You say the chap had beenrun over by the stage? Well, Tom'll take his case on a contingentfee--fifty per cent. To Tom and fifty per cent. To the client ofall that comes of it--bring an action against the stage line andrecover heavy damages. Oh, it's terrible to think what that poorinjured young man will suffer. To-day he may feel quite well, butto-morrow he will have all kinds of pains in his head and eyes, his spine will ache, he will experience symptoms of a nervousbreakdown. He will retire to bed and not emerge for six months, and when he does he'll be a hopeless and helpless cripple for life. Tom is an artist, he is, in his own line. They tell me he madesixty thousand last year out of his accident practice alone. Why, the case he gave you twenty to keep out of may net him five thousanddollars. "

"If I'd known that it would have cost him fifty!" I said, feelingthat an unjust advantage had been taken of me. 

"Twenty is the regular rate, " answered Gottlieb. "There are toomany chances to make it worth much more merely to get the otherfellow out of the way. Sometimes, though, I've paid as high asfifteen hundred for a case. "

"Fifteen hundred!" exclaimed I. 

"Yes, and got a verdict of nineteen thousand, of which I pocketedninety-five hundred and four hundred dollars costs besides. "

"Whew!" I whistled. 

"Oh, there's pretty good pickin's on occasion even for a police-court lawyer, " he continued; "but it's nothin' to the return fromwhat I might call legitimate practice. Now, there's old Haight, of Haight & Foster, for instance. He gets half a dozen twenty-thousand-dollar fees every year, and all he has is strictly old-fashioned probate and real-estate practice and a little of thisnew-fangled railroad business. My great regret is that I didn'tstick to regular trade instead of going after easy money. Who'sGottlieb now? Just a police-court lawyer, when he might be arguingbefore the Supreme Court of the United States! My brain's just asgood as Haight's. I've licked him many a time in my young days. And then I get tired of all this hogwash! I tell you it's dirtybusiness, most of it!"

"Well, " I answered, remembering "scienter, " "I've no doubt thatyou could beat them all. But I fancy you have nothing to complainof in the way of returns, yourself. What worries me is how to getany start at all. I've tried half the law offices in town. "

Gottlieb listened with some interest as I outlined my experiences. 

"But, " he exclaimed, "you didn't go to the right person. You shouldhave tackled the head of the firm himself. Find some sort ofintroduction. Flatter him. Offer to work for nothing--and, trustme, he'll have you. Now, my advice is to go straight to old Haightand make up your mind to get into his office willy-nilly. It'llbe worth three thousand a year to you to graduate from there. It'll give you the tone you need in the profession. There are twoqualities that make for the highest success in the law--honestyand dishonesty. To get ahead you must have one or the other. Youmust either be so irreproachable in your conduct and elevated inyour ideals that your reputation for virtue becomes your chiefasset, or, on the other hand, so crooked that your very dishonestymakes you invaluable to your clients. Both kinds of lawyers areequally in demand. Some cases require respectability and somedirty work. But the crooked lawyer has got to be so crooked thateverybody is afraid of him, even the judge. Now, the trouble withme is that I'm too honest. Sometimes I wish I were a crook likethe rest of them!"

He sighed deeply and slowly drew down his left eyelid. 

"Thank you, Mr. Gottlieb, " said I, suppressing an inclination tosmile. "I'll take your advice. Perhaps you'll let me talk toyou again later on. "

"Come as often as you like, " he replied. "And look you, young-feller-me-lad, I'll give you half of all the profits I make out ofany business you bring me. You don't have to be a lawyer to getclients. Hustle around among your friends and drum up some tradeand you'll do almost as well as if you could try cases yourself. For every dollar I earn you get another. Is it a go?"

"Surely!" I cried. "And if I'm not very much mistaken I'll not belong about it, for I have an idea or two in my head already. "

The next day I again presented myself at the office of Haight &Foster, where I had already applied for a position to the chiefclerk. This time I asked for the head of the firm himself, and Iwas amused to see that whereas before I had been almost kicked outof the office, I was now treated with the respect due to a possibleclient. After a wait of some twenty minutes I was ushered into alarge sunny office lined with books and overlooking the lower EastRiver. Mr. Haight was a wrinkled old man with a bald scalp coveredwith numerous brown patches about the size of ten-cent pieces. Afringe of white hair hung about his ears, over one of which wasstuck a goose-quill pen. He looked up from his desk as I enteredand eyed me sharply. 

"Well, Mr. Quibble, " he began gruffly, as if he were about to add, "out with what you have to say, young man, and be gone as soon aspossible!"

"Mr. Haight, " said I with great defence, "I have called on you atthe suggestion of my guardian and trustee, Mr. Tuckerman Toddleham, of Barristers' Hall, Boston, to inquire whether I may not be allowedthe great privilege of a desk in your office. I am a Harvard man, born in Salem, and of an old Massachusetts family. Ever since Imade up my mind as a boy to enter the law it has been my ambitionto study in your office; and, I may add, it is also the earnesthope of my guardian, Mr. Toddleham. "

"Do you refer to the Mr. Toddleham of 'Toddleham on Perpetuities'?"he asked with some interest. 

"The same, " I answered, for although I had never heard of the workin question, it seemed just the sort for old Toddleham's production. 

"I am glad to know you, Mr. Quibble, " he exclaimed, extending hishand. "I have often wished that I could meet your guardian andask the great Mr. Toddleham face to face what he really thinks ofthe Rule in Shelley's Case--what do you think of it? What _was_the Rule in Shelley's Case, may I ask?"

Now, I had never heard of the rule in question, so for want of abetter answer I replied:

"The law is no respecter of person. I suppose the rule was _thesame in his case as in any other_. "

Mr. Haight looked at me strangely for a moment and suddenly beganto chuckle. Then he eyed me again and chuckled still more. Finallyhe laid aside all modestly and hugged himself with delight. 

"I see that you are a man of _esprit!_" he remarked between spasms. "I shall be glad to take you into my office. You may go andintroduce yourself to Mr. Spruggins, the chief clerk. "

Thus it was that I secured my first slender foothold at the bar ofNew York, and it was not for several years that I discovered thatthe Toddleham who had written the book on Perpetuities was anentirely different person, belonging to another branch of thefamily. 

Of course I received no compensation for my services at Haight &Foster's, but that was the customary rule with all students. Asa result we were not strictly tied down in our attendance at theoffice. I really believe it would have been cheaper for the firmto have paid a small salary to their clerks, for it would then havebeen in a position to demand much more of them in return. As itwas I found myself able to come and go about as I chose, and beingobliged to support myself in some way my attendance at the officewas quite irregular. But I was started at last and belongedsomewhere. No longer was it necessary for me to wander about thestreets looking for a place to hang my hat, and I already hadschemes in mind whereby I was soon to become rich. 

My associates in the office were all scholarly, respectable youngmen, most of them law-school graduates and scions of well-knownfamilies, and I was not insensible to the advantage to me that myconnection with them might be later on. It was essential that Ishould impress them and the firm with my seriousness of purpose, and so I made it a point, unpleasant as I found it, to be on handat the office every morning promptly at eight-thirty o'clock, readyto arrange papers or serve them, and to be of any assistance, nomatter how menial, to Mr. Spruggins, whose sense of dignity I tookpains to flatter in every way possible. In the afternoon, however, I slipped away on the pretext of having to go uptown to study, butin point of fact in order to earn enough money to pay for my boardand lodging. 

I had been cogitating several ideas since I had visited Gottlieb, and the one that appealed to me the most was that of procuring ofbusiness for other lawyers upon a percentage basis. I reasonedthat there must be several hundred thousand people in the city whohad no acquaintance with lawyers and would be as ready to consultone as another. Reputable lawyers did not advertise, to be sure, but I was not yet a lawyer, and hence many courses were open to meat this stage in my career that would be closed later on. I hadconsiderable confidence in my own persuasive ability and felt thatit was only a question of time before I could drum up a substantialamount of business. Accordingly I had a few cards neatly printedon glossed board reading:

 MR. ARTEMAS QUIBBLE BROADWAY OF HAIGHT & FOSTER Contracts ATTORNEYS-AT-LAW Mortgages 10 WALL STREET Tax Matters NEW YORK CITY General Advice

The Haight & Foster end of the card was done in very heavy type, while my own name was comparatively inconspicuous. Further toassist my plans I rented a tiny office not far from Madison Squarefor the sum of two dollars per week and furnished it with a table, two chairs, and an inkpot. The door bore the inscription:

 OFFICE OF ARTEMAS QUIBBLE, ESQ. COUNSELLOR

The reader will observe that not being authorized as yet to practiceas an attorney I was scrupulous not to hold myself out as one. "Counsellor" might mean anything. Certainly I had the right togive counsel to such as desired it. Here I might be found at andafter half-past one of every day, having already done five hours'work at the office of Haight & Foster. I still had enough fundsto carry me for some three weeks and so felt no immediate anxietyas to the future, but I realized that I must lose no time in gettingout my tentacles if I were to drag in any business. AccordinglyI made myself acquainted with the managers and clerks of theneighboring hotels, giving them the impression, so far as I could, that Haight & Foster had opened an uptown office and that I was incharge of it. I made friends also with the proprietors and barkeepersof the adjacent saloons, of which there were not a few, and leftplenty of my cards with them for distribution to such of theircustomers as might need legal assistance, in each case promisingthat any business which they secured would be liberally rewarded. In short, I made myself generally known in the locality and plantedthe seed of cupidity in the hearts of several hundreds of impecuniouspersons. It was very necessary for me to net ten dollars per weekto live, and under the circumstances it seemed reasonable to believethat I could do so. 

Almost at the outset I had a piece of luck, for a guest at a FifthAvenue hotel was suddenly stricken with a severe illness and desiredto make a will. It was but a few days after I had called upon themanager, and, having me fresh in his mind, he sent for me. Thesick man proved to be a wealthy Californian who was too far goneto care who drew his will so long as it was drawn at all, and Ijotted down his bequests and desires by his bedside. I had originallyintended to go at once to Mr. Haight and turn the matter over tohim, but my client seemed so ill that it appeared hardly necessary. I persuaded myself with the argument that the affair required amore immediate attention than the office could give, and accordinglydecided to draw the will myself and incidentally to earn the wholefee. The proceeding seemed honest enough, since, although I hadbeen introduced as representing Haight & Foster, the sick man hadnever heard of them before and obviously did not care one way orthe other. 

I had never drawn a will or any other legal paper, but I lost notime in slipping around to Gottlieb's office and borrowing a workon surrogates' practice, including forms, with which under my armI hurried back to my office. Here after a good many unsuccessfulattempts I produced a document sufficiently technical to satisfyalmost any layman and probably calculated to defeat every wish ofthe testator. Of this, however, I was quite ignorant, and do myselfthe justice to say that, had not that been the case, I would nothave attempted what I now know to have been an impossible task forone of my lack of legal education. I carefully engrossed the willin long hand on fresh foolscap, ornamented it with seals and ribbonsand, returning to the hotel, superintended its execution. My clientasked my how much was my fee and I modestly replied--as I neverexpected to see him again this side of the grave--that my chargewould be one hundred and fifty dollars. He nodded, and indicatinghis pocketbook, told me to help myself, which I did, regrettingnot having asked for more. That night he died, and my impromptuwill was forwarded to California and became the subject of alitigation lasting over eleven years and costing several hundredthousand dollars. 

It thus happened that my eagerness to begin to build up my materialfortunes, coupled with the necessity of having a technical connectionwith a regular firm of lawyers, resulted in my leading a sort ofdouble legal existence. In the morning I was a mere drudge oroffice devil, in the afternoon I was Counsellor Quibble, head ofhis own office and my own master. Having now a capital of onehundred and fifty dollars I was in a position to put one of myschemes into practice, and accordingly I drew up with great carethe following instrument, copies of which I had struck off by atheatrical job printer near by:

======================================================================THIS AGREEMENT made this . . . . Day of . . . . . . . . , 1878, between . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . , of the City and Countyof New York, party of the first part, and Artemas Quibble, Esquire, of the same, party of the second part, WITNESSETH:

That the said party of the first part in consideration of one dollarto him in hand paid upon the first day of each month by the partyof the second part, hereby covenants and agrees to employ at areduced rate the said party of the second part to look after allthe legal matters that my arise in his business and to recommendsaid party of the second part to his friends and acquaintances asa suitable person to perform the like services for them; in thelatter event the said party of the first part to receive as afurther consideration a commission of one-third of the fees of theparty of the second part procured therefrom. 

IN WITNESS WHEREOF we have hereunto set our hands and seals theday and year above named. 

. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. (*). .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. (*)======================================================================

Armed with these insinuating documents I procured a fresh roll ofone hundred one-dollar bills and set forth to interview all whoseacquaintance I had made in the course of my brief residence in thecity. My argument ran thus: Almost anybody would be willing toreceive a dollar every month in return for a service that wouldcost him nothing. With an outlay of one hundred dollars I couldhave a hundred persons virtually in my employ trying to get mebusiness. After the first month I could discontinue with thosewho seemed likely to prove unremunerative. Almost any case wouldreturn in fees as much as my original disbursement. On the wholeit seemed a pretty safe investment and the formal-looking contractwould tend to increase the sense of obligation upon the contractingparty of the first part. Nor did my forecast of the probabilitiesprove at all wide of the mark. Practically every one to whom Iput the proposition readily accepted my dollar and signed theagreement, and at the end of a week my one hundred dollars had beendistributed among all the cab drivers, conductors, waiters, elevatormen, clerks, bartenders, actors, hall boys, and storekeepers thatI knew or with whom I could scrape an acquaintance. None of themexpected to have any business of their own and all welcomed withdelight the idea of profiting by the misfortunes of their friends. 

I had often lost or won at a single sitting at cards a much largersum than the one I was now risking in what seemed an excellentbusiness proposition, so that the money involved caused me nouneasiness. Besides, I had fifty dollars left in my pocket. Meantime I spent my evening in my office reading Blackstone andsuch text-books as I cared to borrow from the well-equipped libraryof my employers. 

Business came, however, with unexpected promptitude. At the endof the first week I had received calls from two actors who desiredto sue their managers for damages for breach of contract, fivewaiters who wished to bring actions for wages due, and actress whowanted a separation from her husband, a bartender who was chargedwith assault for knocking the teeth of an unruly customer down histhroat, and a boy whose leg had been caught under an elevator andcrushed. Each of these I made sign an agreement that I shouldreceive half of any sum recovered in consideration of seeing thatthey received proper legal advice and service, and each of them Isent over to Counsellor Gottlieb, with whom I executed a mutualcontract to divide evenly the fees received. 

The reader will notice that I did not technically hold myself outas a lawyer in these contracts, and merely agreed to furnish counsel. Thus I flattered myself I was keeping on the lee side of the law. Gottlieb settled the case of the boy for twelve hundred dollars, and we divided six hundred between us, and the other cases thatcame in the first month netted us three hundred dollars apiecemore. The future began to look bright enough, as I had to distributeas commissions only two hundred dollars, which left me a grossprofit of four hundred dollars. With this I secured fifty newcontracts, and after paying the second installments upon all thefirst I pocketed as a net result two hundred and fifty dollarscash. I now had a growing business at my back, finding it necessaryto employ an office assistant, and accordingly selected for thatpurpose an old actor who was no longer able to walk the boards, but who still retained the ability to speak his part. For a weeklywage of ten dollars this elderly gentleman agreed to sit in myoffice and hold forth upon my ability, shrewdness, and learning toall such as called in my absence. In the afternoons I assumedcharge myself and sent him forth armed with contracts to securenew allies. 

My business soon increased to such an extent that it bid fair totake up all my time, and the bookkeeping end of it, with itscomplicated division of receipts, proved not a little difficult. The amazement of my friend Gottlieb knew no bounds, but as it wasa profitable arrangement for him he asked no questions and remainedin ignorance as to the source of my stream of clients, until oneof his friends, to whom my assistant had made application, showedhim one of the contracts. That night he sent for me to come tohis office, and after offering me a very large and exceedingly goodHavana cigar delivered himself as follows:

"Harkee, Quib, you are more of a fellow than I took you for. Youhave more cleverness than any man of your years in my acquaintanceat the bar. This scheme of yours, now, it's a veritable gold mine. Not but that anybody could make use of it. It can't be patented, you know. But it's excellently devised; no one will deny that. What do you say to a partnership, eh? On the same terms?"

Now, I had more than once thought of the same thing myself, butthe idea of associating myself in business with an out-and-outcriminal attorney had to my mind serious drawbacks. We discussedthe matter at length, however, and Gottlieb pointed out very wiselythat I was running a great risk in distributing broadcast cardsupon which appeared the unauthorized name of Haight & Foster, aswell as in conducting an office under my own name, when in fact Iwas but an attorney's clerk downtown. My connection and associationwith such a reputable firm was an asset not to be jeopardizedlightly, and he advised my withdrawing so far as I could all mycards from circulation and conducting my business _sub rosa_. Inthe end we came to an understanding which we reduced to writing. I was to become a silent partner in Gottlieb's business and myoffice was to become a branch of his, my own name being entirelyin abeyance. On the whole, this arrangement pleased me very well, as under it I ran practically no risk of having my activitiesdiscovered by my employers. 

It is somewhat difficult to know just in what order to presentthese memoirs to the reader, for from this time on my life becamea very varied one. Had I the time I should like nothing betterthan to paint for my own satisfaction an old-fashioned law officeas it was conducted in the 'seventies--its insistent note ofestablished respectability, the suppressed voices of its young men, their obvious politeness to each other and defence to clients, their horror at anything vulgar, the quiet, the irritating quiet, Mr. Wigger's red wig--he was the engrossing clerk--the lifelessnessof the atmosphere of the place, as if nothing real ever happenedthere, and as if the cases we prepared and tried were of interestonly on account of the legal points involved. When I was there, filing papers in their dusty packages, I used to feel as though Iwas fumbling among the dust of clients long since dead and gone. The place stifled and depressed me. I longed for red blood andreal life. There I was, acting as a clerk on nothing a year, whenuptown I was in the centre of the whirlpool of existence. It waswith ill-concealed gratification that I used daily at one o'clockto enter the library, bow to whatever member of the firm happenedto be there, remove a book from the shelves and slip out of thedoor. A horse-car dropped me in half an hour at a hotel near myoffice. After I had snatched a sandwich and a cup of coffee inthe café I would dash up to my office--the door of which now borethe lettering:

 ABRAHAM GOTTLIEB ATTORNEY & COUNSELLOR-AT-LAW BRANCH OFFICE SIDDONS KELLY, MANAGER

Siddons Kelly was the superannuated actor of whom I have alreadyspoken, and when he was not, so to speak, in drink he was aninvaluable person. He had followed the stage all his life, but hewas of the sort that tear passion to tatters and he had never risenabove third-rate parts. In every respect save declamation he hadall the elegances and charm of manner that the stage can give, andhe would receive and bow out a scrubwoman who had fallen down aflight of back stairs and wanted to make the landlord pay for herbroken head with a grace truly Chesterfieldian. This was all veryfine until he had taken a drop too much, when his vocabulary wouldswell to such dimensions that the confused and embarrassed clientwould flee in self-protection unless fortunate enough to be rescuedby Gottlieb or myself. Poor Kelly! He was a fine old type. Andmany a client then and later was attracted to my office by hisrefined and intellectual old face with its locks of silky gray. An old bachelor, he died alone one night in his little boarding-house with a peaceful smile on his wrinkled face. He lies inGreenwood Cemetery. Over him is a simple stone--for which I paid--bearing, as he had requested, only the words:

 SIDDONS KELLEY AN ACTOR

As may well be supposed, my professional career uptown was vastlymore entertaining than my experiences at Haight & Foster's. Myafternoons were filled with a constant procession of clients ofall ages, sexes, colors, and conditions. As the business grew andgreater numbers of persons signed our contracts and received theirhonorarium of a dollar a month, a constantly increasing percentageof criminal or semi-criminal cases came to the office. Of coursethere was no better criminal lawyer than Gottlieb in the city, andbefore long the criminals outnumbered our civil clients. At thesame time I noticed a tendency on the part of the civil businessto fall off, the reason for this probably being that my partnerwas known only as a criminal attorney. Now, I began to dislikethe idea of paying a dollar a month to induce people to referbusiness to us, and indeed I found that the disbursement of fiveor six hundred dollars every four weeks for this purpose was notrifling matter. Accordingly I decided to try letting them go fora month or so, but business fell off to such an alarming extentthat I almost immediately resumed the contract system, merelyreducing its proportions. 

In addition to our "dollar-a-monthers, " as we called them, Gottliebemployed half a dozen professional "runners, " whose sole occupationit was to hunt down unfortunate persons injured accidentally andsecure their cases. These employees made a business of joining asmany social clubs, labor and other organizations as possible andswinging the business in Gottlieb's direction. At one time thecompetition for accident cases became so fierce that if a man wererun over on Broadway the rival runners would almost tear him limbfrom limb in their eagerness to get his case; and they would followa dying man to the hospital and force their way on one pretext oranother to his bedside. There used to be a story, which went therounds of the clubs and barrooms, of a very swell old buck who owedan enormous amount of money and who happened to be knocked downand rendered insensible by a butcher's wagon. He was taken to thehospital and did not regain consciousness for several hours. Whenat last he opened his eyes he saw several dozen cards plasteredupon the ceiling directly over his head, reading:

 GO TO LEVY & FINKLESTEIN ATTORNEYS-AT-LAW WE GET YOU MONEY!

 TRY EINSTEIN & GOLDBERG IN THE BUSINESS 30 YEARS

 SOLOMONS & MEYER ATTORNEYS CAN GET YOU $5000 FOR A LEG $10, 000 FOR A LIVER

 MOSES BLOOM THE HONEST LAWYER

 SAMUEL SHARP COUNSELLOR-AT-LAW

"Ah!" he murmured, rubbing his eyes and turning to the nurse; "Ithought I was in some strange place, but I see that all my friendshave been to call already!"

Our criminal business, however, was so extensive that it tookpractically all of Gottlieb's time, and he found it necessary tohire a couple of clerks to attend to the civil cases that came tous. My partner was obliged to spend the whole of almost every dayin attendance at the criminal courts. Frequently he remarkedjestingly that under the circumstances, as he had to give all histime to it anyway, he could as easily attend to _all_ the criminalbusiness of the city as to the small part of it that came to him. 

"Well, " I said to him one day, "why don't you?"

"Why don't I what?" he retorted. 

"Get all the criminal business there is, " I answered. 

"Quib, " he exclaimed excitedly, "have you got another of yourideas?"

"I think so, " I returned. "How does this strike you? Why notissue a policy, like life or accident insurance, in which for amoderate sum you agree to defend _free of charge_ any man accusedof crime? You know that every criminal is always trying to saveup money against the time when he shall be caught and have to hirea lawyer. Now, it is true that these fellows pay very well, butthere are not many that can pay a large fee. If you could getenough crooks to take out a policy at ten dollars per year youmight make a good thing of it. "

"But how would we get our scheme going?" inquired my partner, witha gleam in his eye. "It certainly is a gold mine, if it will work. "

"Leave the thing to me, " I admonished him. 

That evening I drew up with great care a policy of insurance againstthe loss occasioned by having to employ counsel if arrested forcrime. On its back was indorsed the following insidious philosophy:

"Innocent men, as well as guilty, are frequently arrested forviolating the law. This costs money. Lawyers are notoriousextortioners. For ten dollars a year we guarantee to defend you_for nothing_ if charged with crime. Twenty-five dollars insuresentire family. We make no distinction between ex-convicts andothers. 

"ABRAHAM GOTTLIEB, "Of Counsel. "

My next task was to boom my scheme by successful advertising, andwith this in view I persuaded Gottlieb to issue free policies toa dozen or so of the worst rascals that he knew. Naturally it wasnot long before one of them was arrested for some offence, andGottlieb as naturally succeeded in getting him off, with the naturalresult that the fellow went all over town telling how one could bea burglar with impunity for ten dollars a year. At about the sametime I heard of a man who was in the Tombs charged with murder, but who was almost certain to get off on account of the weaknessof the case against him. I, therefore, visited the defendant andoffered to give him a policy for ten dollars, in spite of the factthat he was already in jail. He snatched readily enough at thechance of getting as good a lawyer as Gottlieb to defend him forten dollars, and when he was acquitted made so much of it thatthere was hardly a prisoner in the Tombs who did not send for oneof our policies to guard against future legal difficulties. Toall of these we offered free advice and a free trial upon thecharges pending against them, as a sort of premium or inducementto become policy-holders, and in six months had over two hundredsubscribers. This meant in cash about two thousand dollars, butit necessitated defending any or all of them whenever they were sounfortunate as to run foul of the police, and as luck would haveit out of the two hundred policy-holders forty-seven of them werearrested within the first six months--fifteen for burglary, elevenfor robbery and assault, sixteen for theft, and five for murder. These latter cases took all of Gottlieb's working hours for someseven and a half weeks, at the end of which time he threw up hishands and vowed never to insure anybody against anything again. It was impossible for me to try any of the cases myself, as I wasnot as yet admitted to the bar, and the end of the matter was thatwe returned the premiums and cancelled the policies of the remainingone hundred and fifty-three insured. This done, Gottlieb and Iheaved sighs of mutual relief. 

"You are a clever fellow, Quib, " he acknowledged good-naturedly, "but in some ways you are ahead of your time. You ought to havegone into life insurance or railroading. Your genius is wasted onanything that ain't done wholesale. Let's you and me just stickto such clients as come our way in the natural course of events. There isn't any one born yet big enough to do all the criminal lawbusiness in this little old town by himself. "

And in this I with some regret agreed with him. 

CHAPTER IV

As I have already taken some pains to indicate, I was fully persuadedof the practical value of a professional connection with a legalfirm of so eminent a standing as that of Messrs. Haight & Foster, and for this reason the reader may easily appreciate the shock withwhich I received the information that my presence was no longerdesired in the office. 

Mr. Haight had unexpectedly sent for me word that I was wanted inthe library and I had obeyed his summons without a suspicion thatmy career as a civil attorney was to be abruptly terminated. AsI closed the door behind me I saw the old lawyer standing near thewindow, his spectacles poked above his eyebrows and his foreheadred with indignation. Between the thumb and forefinger of his lefthand he held a card. 

"So, " he exclaimed, vainly trying to appear collected, "I find thatmy firm has been conducting an uptown office for criminal business!This is one of your cards, I believe?"

He tossed it from him as if it were infected with some virulentlegal disease, and I saw that it was one of the unfortunate cardsthat I had had printed before forming my partnership with Gottlieb. It was no use denying anything. 

"Yes, " I answered, as quietly as I could, "it is one of my cards. "

"I am also informed, " he continued, his voice trembling withsuppressed wrath, "that while you have been masquerading as astudent in this office you have been doing a police-court lawbusiness in association with a person named Gottlieb. "

I turned white, yet made no traverse of his indictment. I wasgoing to be kicked out, but I felt that I could at least make myexit with a dignified composure. 

"Young man, you are no longer wanted here, " continued Mr. Haightwith acerbity. "You have found your own level without assistanceand you will no doubt remain there. You obtained your position inthis office by means of false pretences. I do not know who youreally are or whence you really come, but I have no doubt as towhere you will eventually go. This office does not lead in theright direction. You ought to be locked up! Get out!"

I went. 

Glib as I was in the defence of others I found it difficult toargue in my own behalf. At any rate, it would have availed nothing. I had been tried, convicted, and sentenced in my absence, and itwas vain to hope for pardon. These is something in righteousindignation that inevitably carries respect with it. I fullysympathized with Mr. Haight. I had cheated and outraged his firmand I knew it. I had no excuse to offer and he was entitled tohis burst of excoriation. Morally I felt sure that the worm thathad worked deepest into his bone was the fact that my guardian, whose name, as the reader may recall, I had made use of as anintroduction, had not in fact written "Tottenham on Perpetuities"at all. 

Thus I passed out of the office of Haight & Foster much as I hadslipped in--quite unostentatiously. All hope of success along theslow and difficult lines of legitimate practice faded from my mind. Whether I willed it or not, as a criminal attorney I was destinedto make my bread. 

There was now no reason why Gottlieb and I should any longer concealour partnership, and we decided, therefore, to go into things ona much larger scale than theretofore, and hired a suite of officeson Centre Street, near the Tombs, where we could be within easyreach of the majority of our clients. A sign some forty feet longand three feet wide ran along the entire front of the building, bearing the names Gottlieb & Quibble. Our own offices were in therear, the front rooms being given over to clerks, runners, andprocess servers. A huge safe bought for a few dollars at an auctionstood in the entrance chamber, but we used it only as a receptaclefor coal, its real purpose being simply to impress our clients. We kept but few papers and needed practically no books; what wehad were thrown around indiscriminately, upon chairs, tables--evenon the floor. I do not recall any particular attempt to keep theplace clean, and I am sure that the windows were never washed. But we made money, and that was what we were out for--and we madeit every day--every hour; and as we made it we divided it up andput it in our pockets. Our success from the start seemed in somemiraculous way to be assured, for my partner had, even before Iknew him, established a reputation as one of the keenest men atthe criminal bar. 

As time went on our offices were thronged with clients of all sexes, ages, conditions, and nationalities. The pickpocket on his wayout elbowed the gentlewoman who had an erring son and sought ouraid to restore him to grace. The politician and the actress, thepolite burglar and the Wall Street schemer, the aggrieved wife andstout old clubman who was "being annoyed, " each awaited his or herturn to receive our opinion as to their respective needs. Good orbad they got it. Usually it had little to do with law. Rather itwas sound, practical advice as to the best thing to be done underthe circumstances. These circumstances, as may be imagined, variedwidely. Whatever they were and however little they justifiedapprehension on the part of the client we always made it a pointat the very outset to scare the latter thoroughly. "Consciencedoth make cowards of us all. " But a lawyer is a close second toconscience when it comes to coward-making; in fact, frighteningpeople, innocent or guilty, became to a very large extent ourregular business. 

The sinners most of them live in daily terror of being found outand the virtuous are equally fearful of being unjustly accused. Every one knows how a breath of scandal originating out of nothingcan wither a family and drive strong men to desperation. The pressis always ready to print interesting stories about people, withoutinquiring too closely into their authenticity. Curiously enoughwe found that an invitation to call at our office usually availedto bring the most exemplary citizens without delay. I can remembernot more than three who had the courage to refuse. Most came, asit were, on the run. Others made a bluff at righteous indignation. All, in the end, paid up--and paid well. Our reputation grew, andin the course of a few years the terror of us stalked abroad throughthe city. 

Our staff was well organized, however disordered may have been thephysical appearance of our office. In the first place we had anagent in every police court who instantly informed us whenever anyperson was arrested who had sufficient means to make it worth ourwhile to come to his assistance. This agent was usually the clerkor some other official who could delay the proceedings in such away as to give us time to appear upon the scene. We also had manyof the police in our pay and made it a practice to reward liberallyany officer who succeeded in throwing us any business. In thisway defendants sometimes acquired the erroneous idea that if theyfollowed the suggestion of the officer arresting them and employedus as their attorneys, they would be let off through some collusionbetween the officer and ourselves. Of course this idea was withoutfoundation, but it was the source of considerable financial profitto us, and we did little to counteract the general impression thathad gone abroad that we "stood in" with the minions of the law andwere _personae gratae_ to the judges of the police courts. 

After the telephone came into general use Gottlieb employed it inmany ingenious ways. He even had an unconnected set of apparatushanging on the wall of the office, through which he used to holdimaginary conversations with judges and city officers for thebenefit of clients who were in search of "inflooence. " It is acommon weakness of the layman to believe that more can be accomplishedthrough pull than through the merit of one's cause. Even litigantswho have the right on their side are quite as apt to desire anattorney who is supposed to be "next" to the judge as are thosewhose only hope is through judicial favor. Gottlieb's relationsto the lower magistrates were in many instances close, but heprofessed to be on the most intimate terms with all who wore theermine, whether in the police courts or on the supreme bench. Timeafter time I have overheard some such colloquy as the following. A client would enter the office and after recounting his difficultiesor wrongs would cautiously ask Gottlieb if he knew the judge beforewhom the matter would come. 

"Do I _know_ him?" my partner would cry. "I lunch with him almostevery day! Wait a minute, and I'll call him up. "

Vigorously ringing the bell attached to the unconnected instrumentupon the wall Gottlieb would indulge his fancy in some such dialogueas:

"Hello--hello! Is this Judge Nemo? Oh, hello, Jack, is it you?Yes, it's me--Abe. Say, I want to talk over a little matter withyou before I go into court. How about lunch? Sure--any time willsuit me. One o'clock? I'll be there. Thanks. So long, old man. See you later!"

The client by virtue of this auricular demonstration of our friendlyrelations with the bench would be instantly convinced that hissuccess was assured and that Gottlieb & Quibble were cheap at anyretainer they might choose to name. 

For the most part the routine office work fell to me and Gottliebattended to the court end of the business. For there was no moreadroit or experienced trial attorney in the courts than my littlehook-nosed partner. Even down-town attorneys with almost nationalreputations as corporation lawyers would call him in as associatecounsel in important cases in which a criminal element was involved. Thus we frequently secured big fees in what Gottlieb was pleasedto call legitimate practice, although I am inclined to believe thatour share was small compared with that of the civil lawyers whohad retained us. On one occasion where Gottlieb had been thuscalled in, the regular attorney of record, who happened to be aprominent churchman, came to our office to discuss the fee thatshould be charged. The client was a rich man who had sued successfullyfor a divorce. 

"How much, Mr. Gottlieb, " inquired the attorney, stroking his chin, "do you think would be a fair amount to ask for our services?"

My partner hesitated for a moment and mentally reviewed the lengthof time of the case--a very simple one--had occupied. 

"Do you think five thousand dollars would be too much?" he finallyasked with some hesitation. 

"Five!" cried the lawyer in astonishment. "It should be twentythousand--at the least!"

It is not my intention to give a history of the firm of Gottlieb& Quibble, but rather a general description of the work of anycriminal law office. Its object is precisely the same as that ofthe best offices where civil law is practised--that is, to makemoney out of the client. But inasmuch as the client who seeks theaid of a criminal attorney is usually in dread of losing not merelymoney but liberty, reputation, and perhaps life as well, he iscorrespondingly ready to pay generously for any real or fanciedservice on the part of the lawyers. Thus the fees of a criminalpractitioner--when the client has any money--are ridiculously high, and he usually gets sooner or later all that the client has. Indeed, there are three golden rules in the profession, of whichthe first has already been hinted at--namely, thoroughly terrifyyour client. Second, find out how much money he has and where itis. Third, get it. The merest duffer can usually succeed infollowing out the first two of these precepts, but to accomplishthe third requires often a master's art. The ability actually toget one's hands on the coin is what differentiates the really greatcriminal lawyer from his inconspicuous brethren. 

The criminal attorney, therefore, whether he be called to see hisclient at the Tombs or in the police station, or is consulted inhis own office, at once informs the latter that he is indeed in aparlous state. He demonstrates to him conclusively that thereexist but a few steps between him and the gallows, or at least theState's prison, and that his only hope lies in his procuring atonce sufficient money to--first, get out on bail; second, buy offthe witnesses; third, "fix" the police; fourth, "square" the judge;and lastly, pay the lawyer. Even where the prisoner has no moneyhimself, his family are usually ready to do what they can to gethim off, in order to save themselves from the disgrace of beingrelated to a convict. It is not what may actually happen to yourclient, but what he thinks may happen, that makes him ready andanxious to give up his money. Thus, the more artistic the practitionerin painting the dire consequences which will result if the familyof the offender does not come to his rescue the quicker and largerwill be the response. Time also is necessary to enable the ancestralstocking to be grudgingly withdrawn from its hiding-place and itscontents disgorged, or to allow the pathetic representations ofhis nearer relatives to work upon the callous heart of old UncleJohn, who once held a city office and has thus plenty of money. The object of the lawyer being to hang on to the client until hehas got his money, it follows that if the latter is locked up injail it is all the better for the lawyer, unless it be expedientto let him out to raise funds. Thus criminal attorneys are not, as a rule, particularly anxious to secure the release of a clientfrom jail. Solitary confinement increases his apprehension anddiscomfort and renders him more complacent about paying well forliberty. The English king who locked up the money-lender and hadone of his teeth drawn out each day until he made the desired loanknew his business. Once the fellow is out of jail--pfft! He isgone, and neither the place nor you know him more. Very likelyalso he will jump his bail and you will have to make good yourbond. One client in jail is worth two at large. 

Lawyers exercise much invention in keeping their clients undercontrol. I recall one recent case where a French chauffeur whohad but just arrived in this country was arrested for speeding. The most that could happen to him would, in the natural course ofevents, be a fine of fifteen or twenty dollars. But an imaginativecriminal practitioner got hold of him in the police court and drewsuch a highly colored picture of what might happen to him that theFrenchman stayed in jail without bail under an assumed name, raisedsome three hundred dollars by means of a draft on Paris, handed itover to his counsel, and finally after a delay of two weeks wastried in Special Sessions, found guilty, and let go on a suspendedsentence. He is now looking for the lawyer with a view to doingsomething to him that will inevitably result in his own permanentincarceration. 

Another practical distinction between civil and criminal practitionersis that while the first are concerned for the most part with thelaw, the second are chiefly occupied with the facts. In civilcases the lawyers spend most of their time in trying to demonstratethat, even assuming their opponents' contentions as to the factsto be true, the law is nevertheless in their own favor. Now, thisis a comparatively easy thing, since no one knows what the law inmost civil cases is--and it truth it might as well be one way asthe other. A noted member of the supreme bench of the United Statesis reported to have said that when he was chief justice of one ofthe State courts, and he and his confrères found themselves in aquandary over the law, they were accustomed to send the sergeant-at-arms for what they called the "implements of decision"--a braceof dice and a copper cent. Thus the weightiest matters were decidedwithout difficulty. 

Now, the taking of a purse out of a lady's reticule does not presentmuch confusion as a legal proposition. It would be somewhatdifficult to persuade a judge or a jury that picking a pocket isnot a crime. It is far easier to demonstrate that the pocket wasnot picked at all. This is generally only a question of money. Witnesses can easily be secured to swear either that the lady hadno reticule, or that if she had a reticule it contained no purse, or that some person other than the defendant took the purse, orthat she herself dropped it, or that even if the prisoner took ithe had no criminal intent in so doing, since he observed that itwas about to slip from the receptacle in which it was containedand intended but to return it to her. Lastly, if put to it, thatin fact the owner was _no lady_, and therefore unworthy of credence. 

Few persons realize how difficult it is for an outsider, such asan ordinary juryman, to decide an issue of fact. A flat denial isworth a hundred ingenious defences in which the act is admittedbut the attempt is made to explain it away. It is this that givesthe jury so much trouble in criminal cases. For example, in thecase of the pickpocket the lawyers and the judge may know that thecomplaining witness is a worthy woman, the respectable mother ofa family, and that the defendant is a rascal. But each comes beforethe jury presumably of equal innocence. She says he did, he sayshe didn't. The case must be proven beyond a reasonable doubt. Generally the defendant's word, so far as the jury can see, is asgood as his accuser's. If there are other witnesses it is usuallynot difficult, and certainly not impossible, to show that they havepoor eyesight, bad memories, or are undesirable citizens in general. The criminal lawyer learns in his cradle never to admit anything. By getting constant adjournments he wears out the People's witnesses, induces others to stay away, and when the case finally comes totrial has only the naked accusation of the complainant to disprove. Or, to put it in more technically correct fashion, the complainanthas only his own word wherewith to establish his case beyond areasonable doubt. A bold contradiction is often so startling thatit throws confusion into the enemy's camp. 

I once defended a worthy gentleman named Cohen on a charge ofperjury, alleged to have been committed by him in a civil case inwhich he, as defendant, denied that he had ever ordered a set ofstable plans from a certain architect. The latter was a young manof very small practice who had an office but no clerks or draughtsmen. He certainly believed with the utmost honesty that my client hadcome to his office, engaged him to design a stable, and approvedan elaborate set of plans that he had drawn. When it came to payingfor them Mr. Cohen declined. The architect brought suit, and atthe trial swore to the dates and places of the interviews betweenCohen and himself, and to all the surrounding circumstances anddetails connected with the execution of the plans in question. His lawyer expected that the defendant would interpose the defensethat the plans were inferior, defective, or worthless. Not at all!Mr. Cohen swore that he had never ordered the plans and, in fact, had _never seen the architect in his life!_ He alleged that untilthe suit was brought he had never even _heard_ of him, and thateither the architect was demented or a liar, or else some otherCohen had given the order. The architect and his lawyer werethunderstruck, but they had no witnesses to corroborate theircontentions, since no one had ever seen Cohen in the other's office. The jury disagreed and the architect in some way secured Cohen'sindictment for perjury. But during the criminal trial, at whichI defended him, Mr. Cohen calmly persisted in his denial that hehad ever enjoyed the honor of the architect's acquaintance, andafter two prosecutions, in each of which the jury hopelesslydisagreed, the indictments against him were dismissed. From thisit may easily be inferred that no fact is too patent to be denied. Frequently the more heroic the denial the greater its verisimilitudeto truth. The jury feel that no prisoner would _deny_ a fact thatit would be much easier to _explain away_--and believe him. 

I once represented an Italian called the King of Mulberry Street, who was charged with having deliberately shot in the head and killeda respectable dealer in olive-oil against whom he held no grudgewhatsoever. The King was just an egotistic little man who likednotoriety and admiration. He was wont to refer to himself simplyas "The Bravest Man, " without reference to time or place--just "TheBravest Man. " He was accustomed to demonstrate his bravery byshooting inoffensive people whenever the idea seized him. He neverkilled anybody save quiet and law-abiding fellow citizens who madeno resistance, and the method he selected was to shoot them throughthe head. He seemed to feel that it was essential to his dignitythus to execute at least one human being every six months, and theextraordinary feature of his history was that he had never beenconvicted. 

The case that I was called upon to defend was this: Not havingkilled anybody for nearly a year and fearing to jeopardize his dualtitle of King of Mulberry Street and The Bravest Man, he put aforty-four calibre pistol in his pocket, donned his Sunday clothesand took a walk. The thoroughfare was crowded, the day bright andfair, the time twelve o'clock noon. Presently the oil merchantapproached and The King, first glancing about him to make sure thathe had a "gallery, " went up to him, placed the pistol at his headand fired. He was immediately arrested and indicted for murder. 

Now, twenty witnesses had seen him fire the fatal shot. Yet therewas not the slightest reason in the world why he should have donesuch a thing. Upon the trial my client insisted on simply denyingthat he had done anything of the kind. I had naturally assumedthat he would either claim that the shooting had been accidentalor that he had fired in self-defense, after he had first beenattacked by the deceased. But no--he had had no pistol, did notknow the man, and had not killed him. Why should he have killedhim? he inquired. No one could answer the question, least of allthe jury. The twenty witnesses were positive that he had done so, but he was equally positive that he had not. No one could offerthe slightest explanation of the deed--if it had in fact takenplace. The jury puzzled over the case for hours, at one time, Iam informed, being on the point of acquitting the prisoner for lackof proof of any motive. They reasoned, with perfect logic, thatit was almost if not quite as improbable that the defendant shouldin broad daylight on a public street have shot down a man againstwhom he had not the slightest grudge as that twenty commonplacecitizens should be mistaken as to what they had seen. Whether theywere aided in reaching a verdict by "the implements of decision"I do not know, but in the end they found my client guilty and indue course he paid the penalty, as many another king has done, uponthe scaffold. The plain fact was that The King was a "bravo, " whotook a childish and vain pride in killing people. He killed forthe love of killing, or rather for the egotistic satisfaction ofbeing talked of as a killer. At any rate, there are many like him. While his defence was unsuccessful, he came near enough to escapingto point out the value of a bold denial in a criminal case. 

Our clients consisted, for the most part, of three clearly definedclasses of persons: Criminals, their victims, and persons involvedin marital or quasi-marital difficulties. These last furnished byfar the most interesting quota of our business, and, did notprofessional confidence seal my lips, I could recount numerousentertaining anecdotes concerning some of what are usually regardedas New York's most respectable, not to say straight-laced, households. A family skeleton is the criminal lawyer's strongest ally. Onceyou can locate him and drag him forth you have but to rattle hisbones ever so little and the paternal bank account is at your mercy. New York is prolific of skeletons of this generic character, andGottlieb had a magnificent collection. When naught else was doingwe used to stir them up and revive business. Over this feature ofthe firm's activities I feel obliged, however, from a naturalfeeling of delicacy, to draw a veil. Our function usually consistedin offering to see to it that a certain proposed action, based oncertain injudicious letters, should be discontinued upon the paymentof a certain specified sum of money. These sums ranged in amountfrom five to twenty thousand dollars, of which we retained onlyone-half. I understand that some lawyers make more than thispercentage, but for such I have only contempt. A member of alearned and honorable profession should be scrupulous in his conduct, and to keep for one's self more than half the money recovered fora client seems to me to be bordering on the unethical. But perhapsI am hypersqueamish. 

Of course we had a great deal of the ordinary "knock-down-and-drag-out" variety of assault, robbery, theft, and homicide cases. Mostof these our clerks attended to, but the murder cases Gottliebdefended in person, and in this he was so singularly successfulthat there was hardly a celebrated trial in which he was not retainedin some capacity or other. For he was an adept in all those littlearts that make a jury feel well disposed toward a lawyer, and asa word artist he was unsurpassed. Gottlieb could, I believe, havewrung tears from a lump of pig iron, and his own capacity to openthe floodgates of emotion was phenomenal. He had that rare andpriceless gift shared by some members of the theatrical professionof being able to shed real tears at will. His sobs and groans weretruly heart-rending. This, as might be expected, rendered himpeculiarly telling in his appeals to the jury, and he could frequentlyset the entire panel snivelling and wiping their eyes as he picturedthe deserted home, the grief-stricken wife, and the starving childrenof the man whom they were asked to convict. These unfortunatewives and children were an important scenic feature in our defence, and if the prisoner was unmarried Gottlieb had little difficultyin supplying the omission due to such improvidence. Some buxomyoung woman with a child at the breast and another toddling by herside could generally be induced to come to court for a few hoursfor as many dollars. They were always seated beside the prisoner, but Gottlieb was scrupulous to avoid any statement that they_belonged_ to the client. If the jury chose to _infer_ as muchthat was not our fault. It was magnificent to hear (from the wings)Gottlieb sum up a case, his hand, in which was concealed a pin, caressing the youngest little one. 

"Think, gentlemen, of the responsibility that rests upon you inrendering this woman a widow and depriving this poor innocent babeof a father's protecting love!"

Here Gottlieb would hiccough out a sob, sprinkle a few tears uponthe counsel table, and gently thrust the pin into the infant'sanatomy. Sob from Gottlieb--opportune wail from the baby. Verdict--not guilty. 

There was a certain class of confidence men for whom we soon becamethe regular attorneys. They were a perennial source of delight aswell as profit, and much of my time was given up to the draftingof circulars and advertisements for the sale of stock in such formthat, whereas they contained no actual misstatement of an existingfact, they nevertheless were calculated to stimulate in the mostcasual reader an irresistible desire to sell all that he had andinvest therein. 

Originally the dealers in valueless securities did not take thetrouble to purchase any properties but merely sold their stock anddecamped with the proceeds. Of course such conduct was most ill-advised and unnecessary. It was obviously criminal to sell stockin a concern that has no existence, and several of my clients havingbeen convicted of grand larceny, for this reason I took it uponmyself to advise the others actually to purchase lands, mines, orother property and issue their stock against it. In this way theirbusiness became absolutely legitimate--as strictly honest and withinthe law as any of the stock-jobbing concerns of the financialdistrict. To be sure, the mine need not be more than the merebeginning of a shaft, if even that; the oil-well might have ceasedto flow; the timber land might be only an acre or so in extent;but at any rate they existed. Their value was immaterial, sincethe intending purchaser was not informed in the advertisement asto the amount of gold, silver, or copper mined in any specificperiod, the number of gallons of oil per minute that flowed fromthe well, or the precise locality of the timber forests, but merelyas to the glorious future in store for all who subscribed for thestock. 

This vital distinction has always existed in civil as well ascriminal law between what is fraud and what is legitimate encouragementto the buyer. To tell the prospective vendee of your old gray marethat she is the finest horse in the county is not fraud even ifshe is the veriest scarecrow, for it merely represents your opinion--perhaps colored in part by your desire to sell--and is not amatter of demonstrable fact. To assure him, however, that she hasnever run away, had blind staggers, or spring halt, when theseassertions are not true, is "a false statement as to a past orexisting fact, " and as such constitutes a fraud--if he buys yourhorse. 

Now, it frequently has happened in my experience that gentlemendesiring to find purchasers for securities or property of littlevalue have so carelessly mingled statements of fact with opinions, laudations, and prophecies as to their goods, that juries have saidthat they were guilty of fraud in so doing. Thus the lawyer becomesat every turn indispensable to the business man. The followingcircular was drawn up for one of our clients and is an excellentexample of a perfectly harmless and legal advertisement that mighteasily become fraudulent. We will suppose that the corporationowned one-quarter of an acre of wood lot about ten miles from aregion where copper was being mined. 

"SAWHIDE COPPERS"YOUR LAST CHANCE TO BUY THIS STOCK AT PRESENT FIGURES!"The company's lands are located near the heart of the copperdistrict, not far from properties now paying from forty to sixtyper cent. A year. There is no reason in the world why Sawhideshould not do as well if not better. With immense quantities ofore just beneath the surface, when our new smelter is completedSawhide will undoubtedly prove one of the best dividend payers inthe country! As the Buggenheims and other well-known financiersare largely interested in the stock, it is only a question of timebefore it will be marked up out of sight. The properties havegreat surface value and are rolling in timber and mineral wealth. "

This is a fair example of a perfectly safe variety of advertisementthat does not commit the author to anything. As long as there isa piece of land somewhere and an actual incorporated company thestock of which, however valueless, is being offered for sale, themere fact that the writer indulges himself in rosy prophecies doesnot endanger him so far as the criminal law is concerned. It isonly when he foolishly--and usually quite as unconsciously--makessome definite allegation, such as, for instance, that the company"owns six hundred acres of fully developed mining property, " orhas "a smelter in actual operation on the ground, " or "has earnedsixty-five per cent. On its capital in the past year, " that thefinancier runs the slightest risk. It may be that a purchaserwould find it so difficult to prove the falsity of any of thestatements upon which he had relied in purchasing the stock thatthe vendor would practically be immune, but in these days of muck-raking and of an hysterical public conscience prosecutors sometimesgo to the most absurd lengths and spend ridiculous sums of moneyout of the county treasuries to send promoters to jail. 

They are apt to have a hard time of it, however. I recall onescheme in which a client of mine was interested, involving thefloatation of about a hundred thousand dollars' worth of railroadstock. The circulars, printed by a famous engraver and stationer, were twenty pages in length and contained the minutest descriptionof the company's board of directors, rolling stock, capitalization, bond issues, interests in other railroads, government grants ofland, and the like. They were embellished with beautiful photographsof deep cuts, suspension-bridges, snow-sheds, railroad-yards, andround-houses. The promoter did a mail-order business and sold thestock by the bagful to elevator men, trained nurses, policemen, porters, clerks, and servant girls. 

After he had salted away about forty thousand dollars some of thepurchasers began to get anxious about their dividends. None wereforthcoming, and as the promoter was inclined to be indefinite asto future prospects he was presently arrested. But when the casecame to trial I pointed out a fact that, strange as it may seem, practically no one of the multitude of stockholders had previouslynoticed, namely, that the circulars made no actual statement _asto where the railroad was located_. By inference it might wellhave been supposed to be somewhere in Canada, but there was no suchfact clearly alleged. Of course it was impossible for the prosecutorto prove that my client did not own a railroad _somewhere_ in theworld and the indictment had to be dismissed. Negations areextremely hard to establish, and therein lies the promoter's safety. If he sticks to generalizations, no matter how they glitter, he isimmune. Had my railroad promoter inserted a single word descriptiveof the location of his franchise or his terminals he would now bein Sing Sing instead of owning a steam yacht and spending hiswinters in Florida. 

From the foregoing the reader will observe that the first-classcriminal lawyer by no means devotes his time to defending mereburglars and "strong-arm" men. The élite of the profession do asgilt-edged an office practice as the most dignified corporationattorneys. Indeed, in many respects their work is strictlyidentical. 

CHAPTER V

The firm of Gottlieb & Quibble had not been long established before--quite by chance--a new vista of opportunity opened before us. My partner had a wretched client who, not unlike many others, wouldgo to more pains and trouble to steal a dollar than it would havetaken him to earn twenty. This, I have noticed, is a generalpeculiarity of lawbreakers. The man's name was McDuff and mypartner had defended him on several occasions and had got him off, with the result that he was always hanging about the office andasking if this and that were "within the law. " One fine day hewas arrested on the charge of having obtained money by false premisesin an unique manner. 

It appeared that he had learned through a certain bar-tender thatone Jones, a patron of the place, had but recently come into alegacy of a couple of hundred dollars and, in connection therewith, had imbibed so freely that he had become involved in a fist fightwith a gentleman by the name of Holahan and had done the latterconsiderable facial damage. McDuff pondered upon these facts forsome time over his beer and then set out to find Jones--not adifficult task, as the legatee was making a round of all the near-by saloons and endeavoring to drink up his good fortune as rapidlyas possible. Overtaking him in a side street McDuff grasped himroughly by the shoulder. 

"Look here, Jones, " says he, pretending to be an officer; "I havea warrant for your arrest for committing a battery upon ThomasHolahan. You must come along with me to the station-house. "

"What! For me!" cries Jones in an agony of dismay. "Sure, I didnothing to the man. You're not going to lock me up for that!"

"It's my unpleasant duty, " answers McDuff. "An officer has nochoice in the matter. You must step along. "

"Come, come!" replies Jones, pulling his money from his pocket. "Here's a hundred and fifty dollars. Say you couldn't find me!"

"I would be taking a great risk, " responds the supposed officer. "Have you no more than that?"

"I have my gold watch and chain, " returned Jones. "You can havethem and welcome--only let me go!"

The bargain was stuck then and there and the transfer from Jones'pockets to those of McDuff effected. Unfortunately, however, Jonesnext day discovered that Holahan harbored no ill-will against himand that the supposed officer was nothing of the kind. Rising inhis wrath, he in turn procured a warrant for McDuff and caused hisarrest and indictment. The trial came off and despite Gottlieb'sbest efforts his client was convicted by the jury of stealing Jones'watch, chain, and money by falsely representing himself to be anofficer of the law. The case went on appeal to the Supreme Court, which affirmed the conviction, and there seemed no escape for McDufffrom a term in prison. 

One evening Gottlieb and I got talking about the case among otherthings. 

"How is it, " said I, "that the criminal law will step in and givea man back his money when, under precisely the same circumstances, the civil law will let him whistle?"

"What mean you by that?" asked my partner. 

"Why, " answered I, "the civil law will not settle disputes betweenthieves, it will not enforce an equitable division of stolenproperty, and it will not compel rogues to keep a dishonest contractbetween themselves. Now this fellow, Jones, it seems to me, wasalmost as bad as your friend McDuff. He tried to induce a man hethought was a sworn officer of the law to violate his oath anddisregard his duty. Why should the criminal law do anything forhim? Why should it hand him back his money as if he were an innocentand honest man?"

"It is an ingenious argument, " replied Gottlieb, scratching hisear; "and yet it is poppycock for all that. The criminal law isto punish criminals. According to your reasoning, two wrongs wouldmake a right and two thieves one honest man. Would you let McDuffgo unpunished simply because he was clever enough to induce Jonesto try to break the law as well as himself? Why, any judge wouldlaugh you out of court on such a proposition. "

"But, " I retorted, "surely, if I gave you a hundred dollars forthe purpose of bribing a judge and you failed to accomplish yourpurpose, no court would assist me to recover the money. 'Twouldbe against public policy and _contra bonos mores_. "

"Even so, " answered my partner, "would it not be more _contra bonosmores_ to let a thief go unpunished, once he had been arrested?Take my word, Quib, there's nothing in it, " insisted Gottliebwarmly. "For instance, there is the crime against usury--a veryfoolish law to be sure, but there it is. No one can commit usuryunless some one else participates in the offense by paying theunlawful interest; but the usurer does not escape on that account. Why, then, should the false pretender in our case?"

"I admit the force of your analogy, " said I, "and I could easilysuggest others myself. Bribery, for instance; extortion and manyother offences, where the law does not refrain from punishing theone because the other is equally guilty. But the cases differ inthat, in bribery, the briber is seeking to influence the acts ofan official; and, in extortion, the law imputes an element of forcewhich is supposed to overcome the will of the person paying themoney. I am not so clear on your usury. Still, I believe thereis a fighting chance to win the case on my theory. "

"If you think so, " grumbled Gottlieb, "you had better argue ityourself before the Court of Appeals. "

"Very well, " said I. "Nothing will give me greater pleasure. "

It was with some trepidation, however, that I went to Albany toargue, before so august a body of judges, a proposition of law thathad in reality so little to commend it; particularly as I wasopposed in person by the district attorney of New York County--aman of great learning and power of sarcasm. However, I found theCourt of Appeals much interested in my argument and had the pleasureof hearing them put many puzzling questions to my opponent, inanswering which he was not always altogether successful. 

Pending the opinion of the Court, which was not handed down forseveral months, an incident occurred in our practice that may serveto amuse the reader if not to illustrate the dangers of ignorance. We were engaged in a litigation in the United States District Court, where the subpoenas for the witnesses are issued by the clerk tothe deputy marshals for service. Our opponent in the case was atesty old member of the bar over sixty years of age and of the veryhighest respectability and standing, who had several times refusedelevation to the bench and was regarded as the personification ofdignity and learning. Unfortunately his appearance belied hisposition, for he was almost totally bald and his face was as weazenedand wrinkled as that of a monkey. 

It so happened that we desired to have in court the following daycertain papers that were in his possession; and, in order that wemight be in a position to introduce copies of them in case he failedto produce the originals, we secured what is called a _duces tecum_subpoena for him--that is to say, a subpoena directing him to bringwith him--_duces tecum_--"bring with you"--the papers in question. There had recently been appointed as a deputy marshal a very honestand enthusiastic, but exceedingly ignorant Irishman named Hennessey, who, prior to his advent into officialdom, had been employed atheaving coal at a dollar and eighty cents a day. The clerk calledhim into his office and handed to him our subpoena. 

"Mike, " he said, "here is a subpoena for Winthrop Van Rennsellaer"--our worthy opponent. "It is a _duces tecum_. Understand?"

"Shure, I do!" answered Mike, wiping his mouth with the back ofhis hand and taking the paper; for, though he had no idea of what_duces tecum_ meant, he had no intention of disclosing the fact. 

"It's important, " continued the clerk. "Be sure and attend to thematter at once. "

"Lave that to me!" Mike assured him. 

"Don't forget that it's a _duces tecum_, " admonished the clerk asMike passed out of the door. 

"Not on yer life!" replied the newly appointed deputy. 

Outside, he found a fellow deputy, also newly appointed. 

"Pat, " said Mike, holding out the subpoena, "phat is the meanin'o' thim two wurrds?"

His friend carefully examined the paper. 

"'_Duces tecum_', " he repeated thoughtfully. "'_Dooces taycum_. 'They be Latin words meanin' 'take him alive or dead. '"

"Thanks, " said Mike. "Trust me!"

And he started forthwith for Wall Street, where Mr. Winthrop VanRennsellaer's office was located. Having ascertained by inquirythat his quarry was in, Mike pushed by the clerks and scrivenersin the outer offices and armed with the majesty of the law, boldlyforced his way into the lawyer's sanctum. Marching up to him, hedemanded in a loud voice:

"Are you Van Rennsellaer?"

The lawyer, exceedingly astonished, replied, with what dignity hewas able to assume under the circumstances;

"I am Mister Winthrop Van Rennsellaer. "

"Come wid me!" ordered Mike. 

"I shall do nothing of the kind!" retorted the lawyer, getting redin the face. 

"Y' won't, eh?" exclaimed the deputy; and, grasping Mr. WinthropVan Rennsellaer by his linen collar, he yanked him out of his chairand, to the horror of the servile supernumeraries in the lawyer'semploy, dragged that eminent member of the bar through his ownoffices, down the stairs, and into the street. 

The lawyer protested loudly at the indignities to which he wasbeing subjected and a large crowd gathered, which for the timebeing blocked Broadway. Mike, confident that he had the authorityof the United States Government behind him, exhibited his badge, called upon the police to assist him in the exercise of his dutyand proceeded triumphantly to march Mr. Winthrop Van Rennsellaer, hatless, up the street at the head of a large and enthusiasticprocession of interested citizens. From time to time Mike wouldturn and call upon the crowd to disperse, at the same time announcingin a loud voice that he had arrested his prisoner by an order ofthe Government to take him alive or dead. 

By this time the lawyer's little round head was glowing a brightred and his legs almost refused to carry him. Once they had arrivedat the Post-office Building the mistake was quickly discovered andMr. Van Rennsellaer was set at liberty; but each and every UnitedStates judge had to descend in his robes from the bench and implorehis pardon before the furious little lawyer would consent to calla cab and return to his office. 

I understand that he always believed that the whole thing was atrick of Gottlieb's to humiliate him; and, indeed, some members ofthe bar have suspected me of the same thing--entirely withoutjustification, of course. During the rest of his exceedinglydistinguished career one had only to mention the words _duces tecum_in the presence of Mr. Winthrop Van Rennsellaer to deprive him instantlyof his composure; in fact, for a long time he abandoned appearingin court and contented himself with nursing his dignity in hisoffice. I should add that the incident so affected his confidencethe next day in court that we won our case without difficulty. 

But to return to the unfortunate McDuff. To my great astonishmentand still more so to that of my partner the Court of Appeals handeddown an opinion sustaining my contention and holding his client'sconviction to be illegal. That night Gottlieb and I, sitting inhis office, shook our sides with laughter at the idea of havinghoodwinked the greatest court in the State into a solemn opinionthat a rogue should not be punished if at the same time he couldpersuade his victim to try to be a rogue also! But there it wasin cold print. They had followed my reasoning absolutely and evenadopted as their own some of the language used in my brief. Doesany one of my readers doubt me, let him read the report of a likecase in the forty-sixth volume of the reports of the Court ofAppeals of New York, at page four hundred and seventy. 

Said the Court: "The prosecutor"--Jones--"parted with his propertyas an inducement to a supposed officer to violate the law and hisduties; and if in attempting to do this he has been defrauded thelaw will not punish his confederate, although such confederate mayhave been instrumental in inducing the commission of the offence. Neither the law nor public policy designs the protection of roguesin their dealings with each other, or to insure fair dealing andtruthfulness, as between each other, in their dishonest practices. "(This sentence had been in my brief. ) "The design of the law isto protect those who, for some _honest_ purpose, are induced uponfalse and fraudulent representations to give credit or part withtheir property to another, and not to protect those who, for_unworthy_ or illegal purposes, part with their goods. "

"Why, Quib, " quoth Gottlieb, "you are the discoverer of a new legalprinciple. You will inaugurate a new field of human activity. Generations yet unborn will profit by your ingenuity. From now onevery rascal in the land will set his wits to work trying to bringhis schemes within the scope of this beneficent opinion. "

"Indeed, " I replied, "however fine it may be for McDuff, I caneasily see that I have unloosed as many troubles as ever flew outof Pandora's Box. "

"Yes--but to our profit, " he retorted, with a grin. "Don't forgetthat. The inventors will all come flocking straight to us to getthem out of their difficulties--you may be sure of it!"

"'Tis extraordinary, " I said, "what a multitude of opportunitiesthis new principle enunciated by the Court of Appeals affords toa man of an inventive turn of mind. As I take it, all one has todo is to induce another man to part with his money in the beliefthat he is going to take a sharp advantage of some one else. Forexample, let us suppose that I go to some person and falsely tellhim that I have a client serving a term in Sing Sing for burglarywho has confided to me the whereabouts of the secret hiding-placeof his loot. All that is necessary is some one to put up sufficientmoney to cover the expense of transportation and excavation--andit can be divided between us. For this purpose he intrusts me withseveral hundred dollars, with which I make off. I have stolen themoney fast enough, but I can never be punished for it. "

"Exactly!" exclaimed my partner. "And here is another idea thatis well calculated to appeal to almost anybody. It has just occurredto me quite involuntarily while you were speaking. Many of ourclients want to know if they cannot send the judge, who is tryingthe case, a present of some sort, or maybe loan him a little money;and it is always distressing to be obliged to tell them--usually--that it is quite out of the question; that it would only get theminto trouble. Of course, occasionally we let them send the judgea box of cigars, _but always with the compliments of our adversary--never our own_. Now this shows how readily persons who are mixedup in lawsuits or other difficulties would be ready to put up theirmoney if they supposed the judge were going to get it. All youneed is some unscrupulous fellow to go up to one of our clientsand mention the fact that he is the judge's brother-in-law and isin dearth of ready money. Can't you see the client digging up theneedful? He'd be stuffing it down our friend's pockets before hegot through speaking; and the whole thing could be done quiteopenly, you observe, because, even if the client found out laterthat he had made a mistake, the law would not help him. "

"An excellent illustration, " I answered, "of the uses to which alegal decision may be put. "

"Indeed, though, " continued Gottlieb, "the scheme need by no meansby as raw as all that. It is enough if there be merely an _immoral_or _improper_ motive that induces the victim to part with his money. For example, if he but thinks that he can do a sharp trick to someone else. Let us suppose that I pretend to have secret informationto the effect that certain property is really much more valuablethan the owner supposes it to be. I propose to another that--ifhe will put up the money for that purpose--we shall buy the property, leading the owner to suppose he is getting full value for it. Now, if, to induce the latter to make the sale, it is agreed between usthat we make false or misleading statements as to the real valueof the property I do not see but that I would be perfectly safe. "

"Safe?" I queried. "I don't understand. You would have boughtthe property, that is all. "

"My dear Quib, " returned my partner, "you seem singularly dull thisevening for one of your brilliant parts. The point is that theproperty really isn't worth anything. I am in cahoots with theman who sells it; and we divide even!"

"Yes, " I answered; "a dozen similar schemes could be worked likethat. "

"A dozen!" cried Gottlieb, bounding enthusiastically out of hischair and commencing to stalk up and down the room. "A hundred!Why, there are endless ways in which it can be worked--and I knowthe man to work them too!"

"Eh!" I exclaimed. 

"I mean, who will undoubtedly avail himself of some of them, " hecorrected himself. "Take this case: It is a crime under the lawto give back or rebate part of the premium on a life insurancepolicy. Now many a man could be induced to insure his life if hecould get back the first year's premium. All you have got to dois to tell him that you are an insurance agent and will give itback--and then put the money in your own pocket, for he will havegiven you the premium for an illegal purpose--that is to say, withthe idea of having it paid back to him contrary to law. Under thedecision he will have no chance to get you arrested. "

"Never say that you are not a man of ingenuity yourself, " said I. 

I bade my partner good-night and walked slowly homeward meditatingupon the wonders of the law, but totally unconscious of what aharvest was to be reaped from the seed I had sown so innocently. 

It was but a short time after this that, happening to enter theoffice somewhat unexpectedly one evening, I discovered Gottlieb inanimated conversation with a stockily built man of about fortyyears of age, whose coal-black hair--by far his most conspicuousfeature--had been suffered to grow quite long and was parted evenlyin the middle, so that it gave him somewhat the appearance of thehooded seal that was then on exhibition at P. T. Barnum's museum. He had a good-humored face, jet-black eyes, and a familiar, easyway with him that put one on a friendly footing at once. 

"Hello! Quib!" exclaimed my partner. "I want you to meet myfriend, Charlie Billington. "

"Delighted to meet you, Mister Quibble, " cried the stranger, graspingmy hand. "Our friend Gottlieb knows me almost better than I knowmyself--eh, Gottie? Between us we have turned many a trick. "

"You mean that I have pulled you out of many a bad hole, " retortedGottlieb. 

"As you please, " answered Billington good-temperedly. "But in anyevent you are a splendid fellow at all times--and especially intimes of need. "

"May I inquire your business, Mr. Billington?" I asked, curious toidentify my new acquaintance. 

Billington winked at Gottlieb. 

"How would you describe it, Mr. Lawyer?" said he. 

Gottlieb laughed and shifted his cigar. 

"Our friend Charlie lives by his brains, " he replied. "He is aninventor, a promoter, an artist. He has earned many a small fortuneby the simple use of a postage stamp. He can extract gold fromseawater or silver from pineapples. Incidentally, he is of ascientific turn of mind and can rattle off the Morse alphabet asdeftly as any operator in the business. Occasionally he has, inthe interest of finance, tapped a wire. "

"Tapped a wire!" Instantly I regarded Billington with a newinterest. So at last I had met one of those famous gentry of whomI had so often heard!

"Never again, I fancy!" laughed Charlie. "My friend, you havesaved a lot of poor devils a deal of trouble. From this time onnone of us will ever need to tap wires. After this we shall only_pretend_ to tap 'em. "

"How so?" I inquired, dropping into a near-by chair. 

"Why, under the new law, " responded Billington--"the law of which, I may say, you are the creator--we shall only have to induce someinnocent countryman to believe that he has heard the result of ahorse-race being sent over the wire in advance of the pool rooms, and persuade him to turn over his roll for the purpose of bettingit on a horse that is presumably already cooling off in the paddockand we can keep his money, for he has parted with it for an illegalor an inimical purpose--to wit, cheating the bookies. "

"Not with my sanction!" I retorted, somewhat aghast at the idea ofhaving paved a broad and easy path for the way of criminals. 

"Tut, tut, Quib!" said Gottlieb. "You have nothing to do with whatuse our friend here sees fit to put your law to. I have never yetadvised any man how to do an illegal thing. The most I have everdone has been to show some of my clients how to do in a perfectlylegal manner that which had heretofore been unlawful. "

"Yea, Gottlieb, " remarked Billington. "And many things that beforewere accounted faults have now, thanks to you, become virtues. "

After Billington bade us good-night, Gottlieb said to me:

"Quib, the more I think of it, the more astonishing is the resultof this new doctrine of yours that has been sanctified by the Courtof Appeals. I do not for the life of me see how a seller of 'greengoods' can be prosecuted. The countryman comes to the city forthe purpose of buying counterfeit money at a ridiculously lowfigure. He puts up his money and gets a package of blank paperwith a genuine one-dollar bill on top of it. What good will it dohim to appeal to the police? Has he not parted with his moneyavowedly for a most wicked purpose--that of uttering counterfeitbills?"

"I quite agree with you, " I answered. "There seems to be no escapefrom your result; and I, for one, do not see what is to preventNew York from becoming the Mecca of all the thieves and rogues inthe country. "

And such, indeed, it became. From this time on, until very recently, the metropolis was the stamping ground of all the rogues who couldnot earn a dishonest living elsewhere. With our friend Charles astheir sponsor, there sprang into being herds of "sick engineers, "fake "wire-tappers, " "green-goods" swindlers, and confidence menof all sorts, who flourished safely under the protection of thedecision of the Court of Appeals in McDuff's case. 

It was but shortly after this that one of Billington's friendsfound himself in the toils of the police for having pretended tosell a package of "green goods" to a yokel from the rural part ofthe State. Charlie at once engaged me to defend him, assertingthat as I was responsible for the law it was my duty to apply itfor the benefit of our clients. So once again I entered the arenain behalf of a principle that at heart I believed to be viciousand even absurd, and once again, to my surprise and the delight ofmy new clients, I triumphed. The Appellate Division reversed theconviction that had followed the arrest and discharged the prisoner, asserting that there was no longer any authority for holding himif the McDuff case was to be taken as law. 

Thus it was, by such unconscious steps, that I, the only son of aclergyman, found myself--willy-nilly--a leader of the criminal bar. Yet at no time during my career would I have exchanged places withmy honored parent or even with Mr. Tuckerman Toddleham, of Barristers'Hall, Boston. 

CHAPTER VI

As I jot down these random reminiscences I am impressed in a singularfashion with the fact that my career consisted entirely in themaking, or rather getting, of money and the spending of it. I hadno particular professional ambitions and never but once soughtdistinction as a constitutional lawyer; and, however unworthy ofan officer of the court such a confession may be, I am quite readyto admit that a seat upon the bench would have afforded me neitheramusement nor sufficient compensation to satisfy my desires. Letother men find their gratification and emolument in the supposedhonor of wearing the ermine! I have never found that a judge becameany the less an erring human being after his elevation to the dais, and I could rake out of one good semi-criminal case twice the salaryof any judge on the supreme bench. What is popularly regarded asrespectability is oft-times in reality--if the truth were known--merely stodginess and stupidity. 

I am compelled to admit that in my early days, before I had formedmy affiliation with Gottlieb, I had different ambitions, althoughthey were none the less worldly. Then I wanted to be a judgebecause I supposed a judge was the king-pin of the profession. Now, as Pat Flanagan says, "I know different. " The judge is aptto be no less a tool of the boss than any other public officerelected by the suffrages of a political party. He is merely lessobviously so. There are a few men in Wall Street who can press abutton and call for almost any judge they want--and he will come--and adjourn court if necessary to do so--with his silk hat in hishands. And if any young aspirant for legal honors who reads thesefugitive memoirs believes that the road to the supreme bench leads_via_ Blackstone, and is lighted by the midnight oil of study, lethim disabuse himself of that idea, but seek rather the districtleader; and let him make himself useful in getting the boys thatare in trouble out of it. Under our elective system there is nomore honor in being a judge than in being a sheriff or a hog-reeve;but, when one is young--and perhaps starving--it may seem otherwise. 

If any of my lay readers believe that the practice of the law isa path of dalliance, let him but hazard his fortunes for a briefspace on the good ship Jurisprudence--he will find the voyagetedious beyond endurance, the ship's company but indifferent incharacter and the rations scanty. I make no doubt but that it isharder to earn an honest living at the law than by any other meansof livelihood. Once one discovers this he must perforce choosewhether he will remain a galley slave for life or hoist the JollyRoger and turn freebooter, with a chance of dangling betimes fromhis own yard-arm. 

Many a man has literally starved at the law. And most of theprofession nearly do so; while some, by merest luck, have managedto struggle on until they stumbled upon some professional goldmine. I have heard many stories of how some young men managed topull success out of disaster when the odds seemed overwhelming. One which has particularly appealed to me I shall call the anecdoteof The Most Capable Young Lawyer in New York. 

Some years ago there came to the great city a young fellow who hadalways lived in a country town where the neighbors were all suchgood friends that they never went to law. He was able and industrious, but in his native place found it almost impossible to earn a living;and when by chance he met a well-known and prosperous attorney fromNew York who advised him to seek his fortune in the whirlpool ratherthan in the back eddies of life, he decided to follow thesuggestion. 

"I will endeavor to throw you something from time to time, " saidthe prosperous lawyer, for it made him feel his own success to seesuch a poor young man and it tickled his vitals into benignity. 

The country boy sold all his possessions for a few hundred dollarsand came to New York. His friend was very kind in his manner andprolific of advice, but, unfortunately, he had no room in his ownoffice for a junior or even an errand-boy. So Peters, for thatwas the young man's name, dragged himself up and down the citytrying to find an opening, no matter how small. He was too old tobegin as a clerk and too much of a bumpkin for anything else, andhe found that nobody had any use for a young man of his particulartype and training. At last, in despair, he hired desk-room in anoffice, shared jointly by half a dozen young men like himself, andwaited for something to turn up; but nothing came. His bank accountfell lower and lower, and he became more and more shabby. Moreover, he was eating his heart out with disappointment, for he could notreturn to his native town and confess himself a failure. 

From time to time he would drop into his prosperous friend's offices, but the latter never had anything to turn over to him and he wouldreturn dejectedly to his own solitary desk. At last he was forcedto give up lunch and get along as best he could on two scanty mealsa day; he grew thin and haggard, his Adam's apple projected redlyabove a frayed collar, his trousers grew wrinkled and shiny, andhe looked ready to take his place in the "bread line. " Finally hespent his last cent on a pretzel and made ready to "turn in hischecks. "

At this point Peters paid a last visit to his friend, who wasvisibly shocked at his emaciated appearance, for his eyes burnedwith the fever of starvation and his jaw was set in a pitifuldetermination to keep going until he dropped. 

"Mr. Banks, " said he grimly, "unless you give me something to doI'll go under. The fact is, I'm starving!"

Mr. Banks look at him critically. 

"Pretty near ready to give up, eh?" he remarked. "Better chuck itand go back! I guess I was wrong when I told you to come downhere. "

"Not yet, " answered Peters doggedly. "When I go back it'll be ina wooden box. "

"Well, " replied Mr. Banks, "I'm sorry; but there isn't a thing inthe office I can give you. " He pondered a minute. "I've got alot of old judgments against a fellow named Rosenheim--in the cigarbusiness, but he's no good--judgment proof--and they aren't worththe paper they're written on. "

"Give them to me!" almost shouted Peters. 

Mr. Banks laughed. 

"You can have ninety per cent. Of all you collect, " said he as hebent over and, pulling out a lower drawer, removed a bundle ofsoiled documents. "Here they are. My blessing to you!"

Peters grabbed the transcripts and staggered down the stairs. Ittook him less than ten minutes to find Mr. Simon Rosenheim, whowas sitting inside a brass fence at a mahogany desk, smoking oneof the best of his own cigars. 

"Mr. Rosenheim, " said Peters, "I have some judgments here againstyou, amounting to about three thousand dollars. "

"Yes?" remarked Rosenheim politely. 

"Can you let me have the money?" inquired Peters. 

"My dear fellow, " retorted Rosenheim, with an oily sneer, "I owethe money all right, but I don't own a thing in the world. Everythingin this room belongs to my wife. The amount of money I owe isreally something shocking. Even what is in the safe"--he noddedto a large affair on the other side of the room--"belongs to somebodyelse. "

Rosenheim had been through this same performance hundreds of timesbefore, but not with the same dénouement. 

Suddenly he saw a lean young man, with hollow cheeks and blazingeyes, leap over the brass railing. In another instant horny handsgrasped him firmly by the windpipe and a voice hissed in his ear:

"Pay me those judgments or I'll strangle you here and now!"

With bursting veins and protruding tongue he struggled helplesslyto escape as his assailant dragged him toward the safe. 

"I mean what I say!" half shrieked Peters. "I'm starving! I'd aslief die one way as another; but before I die you'll pay up thosejudgments--every cent!"

Rosenheim was on his knees now before the safe, his eyes startingfrom his head. 

"Open the safe!" commanded Peters. 

Rosenheim, the sweat of death on his brow, fumbled with thecombination; the tumbler caught, the door swung open. Peters liftedhis captive enough to permit him to reach in and take out the bills. 

"Count 'em out!" he ordered. 

Rosenheim did as he was told, shaking with fear. Peters stuffedthe money into his pocket. 

"Now do your damdest!" he shouted. "I've had one piece of lawbusiness before I died. Good afternoon!"

Rosenheim crawled back to his desk, relit his cigar and endeavoredto pull himself together. He had a half-scared, half-puzzled lookon his face and once in awhile he scratched his head. 

Meantime Peters repaired to the nearest hotel and ordered a dinnerof steak and fried potatoes, washed down with a pint of champagne. He then purchased a new suit of clothes, a box of collars, a fewshirts, and a hat. When he entered Mr. Banks' office an hour laterthe latter with difficulty recognized his visitor. 

"I owe you three hundred dollars, I believe, " remarked Peters, laying down the bills. 

"Owe--me--What? You didn't get that money out of Rosenheim?"stammered Banks. 

"Why not?" asked Peters casually. "Of course I did. Every centof it. "

Banks looked at him in utter amazement. He, too, scratched hishead. 

"Say, " he suddenly exploded, "you must be quite a feller! Now, look here, I've got a claim against the Pennsylvania and SusquehannaTerminal Company for two million dollars that I wish you'd come inand give me a little help on. What do you say?"

Peters hesitated and pursed his lips. 

"Oh, I don't mind if I do, " said he carelessly. 

You may have heard of the celebrated law firm of Banks & Peters--who do a business of about four hundred thousand a year? Well, that is Peters. Banks says he's "the ablest young lawyer in NewYork. "

Peters, however, does not deserve the same credit as another youngfellow of my acquaintance, since in Peters' case necessity was theparent of his invention; whereas in the other the scheme that ledto success was the offspring of an ingenuity that needed no starvationto stimulate it into activity. 

Baldwin was a youth of about thirty, who had done pretty well atthe bar without giving any evidence of brilliancy and only moderatefinancial success. He perceived the obvious fact that the way tomake money at the law is to have money-makers for clients, but hehad no acquaintances with financiers and had no reason to advanceto himself why he should ever hope to receive any business fromsuch. Reading one day that a certain young attorney he knew hadreceived a large retainer for bringing an injunction in an importantrailroad matter, it occurred to him that, after all, it was merelychance and nothing else that had sent the business to the otherinstead of to himself. "If I'd only known Morgan H. Rogers I mighthave had the job myself, " thought he. 

So he pondered deeply over how he could get to know Mr. Morgan H. Rogers and at least conceived the idea of pretending that he hada client who--without disclosing his name for the time being--desired to create a trust for the benefit of a charity in whichthe railroad magnate was much interested. With this excuse hefound no difficulty in securing an interview and making an agreeableimpression. The next step was more difficult. 

Finally, having learned through a clerk in the banker's office withwhom he had cultivated an acquaintance that Mr. Morgan H. Rogerswas going to Boston at a certain hour that very afternoon, he donnedhis best funeral suit and boarded the same train himself. As hepassed through the drawing-room car he bowed to the great man, whoreturned his greeting with the shortness characteristic of him, and passed on to the smoker, where he ensconced himself in a chairnear the door, depositing on the seat next to him a pile of magazinesand his coat. Half an hour passed and the car filled up, save forthe seat next the young lawyer. Presently the bulky form of MorganH. Rogers filled the door-way. He already had a black unlit cigarin his mouth and he scanned the rows of seats with ill-concealeddisappointment. Then his eye caught the one occupied by our friend'scoat. 

"Let me have this seat!" said he abruptly. 

"Oh, how are you, Mr. Rogers!" exclaimed the young lawyer. "Certainly! Let me give you a light. "

"Your name's Baldwin, isn't it?" inquired the banker as he took upa magazine. "Saw you about that trust matter last week, didn't I?"

"Yes, " answered Baldwin. "Nothing has occurred in connection withit since then. "

And he returned to his paper without paying any further attentionto his companion. At Bridgeport a telegraph boy rushed into thecar and yelled: "Baldwin! Mr. Baldwin!"

Mr. Baldwin held out his hand, in which lay half a dollar, andwithout much apparent interest opened the envelope and scanned itscontents. 

"H'm!" he remarked, half inwardly, and thrust the paper into hispocket. 

At New Haven another boy boarded the train, calling anxiously forEveritt P. Baldwin--this time there were two telegrams; and justas the train pulled out a third arrived. 

Mr. Baldwin read them all with the keenest interest and could hardlyconceal an exclamation of satisfaction; but the magnate gave nosign. At New London there was another flurry and, in spite ofhimself, Mr. Baldwin slapped his knee and muttered: "Good enough!"

As the train started again Morgan H. Rogers let fall his magazineand growled half-facetiously:

"What the devil are all those telegrams about?"

"Just a little injunction suit, " the young man answered modestly, "in which my firm has been quite successful. " And, without givingany names--for, indeed, there were none--he sketched rapidly ahypothetical situation of the greatest legal delicacy, in which hehad tied up an imaginary railroad system with an injunction, supposedly just made permanent. Morgan H. Rogers became interestedand offered Mr. Baldwin a remarkably big cigar. He had been havinga few troubles of his own of a similar character. In a few momentsthe two were deep in the problems of one of the financier's owntranscontinental lines and a week later Baldwin was on Rogers'regular staff of railroad attorneys. 

It is pleasant to reflect upon such happy incidents in the historyof a profession that probably offers more difficulties to thebeginner than any other. Yet the very obstacles to success in itare apt to develop an intellectual agility and a flexibility ofmorals which, in the long run, may well lead not only to fortune, but to fame--of one sort or another. I recall an incident in myown career, upon my ingenuity in which, for a time, I looked backwith considerable professional pride, until I found it a commonpractice among my elders and contemporaries of the criminal andeven of the civil bar. 

It so happened that I had an elderly client of such an exceedinglyirascible disposition that he was always taking offence at imaginaryinsults and was ready to enter into litigation of the fiercestcharacter at the slightest excuse. Now, though he was often inthe right, he was nevertheless frequently in the wrong--and equallyunreasonable in either case. He was turned over to me in despairby another and older attorney, who could do nothing with him andwished me joy in my undertaking. I soon found that the oldgentleman's guiding principle was "Millions for defence, but notone cent for tribute. " In other words, as he always believedhimself to have been imposed upon, he litigated almost every billthat was presented to him, with the result that three times out offive judgment was given against him. He had himself studied forthe bar and had a natural fondness for technicalities; and he wasquite ready to pay handsomely any one he believed to be zealouslyguarding his interests. 

He was, at the time I became acquainted with him, nearly seventyyears of age and his chief diversion was to sit in my office andharangue me upon his grievances. Being a sort of sea-lawyer himselfhe was forever devising quaint defences and strange reasons why heshould not pay his creditors; and he was ever ready to spend ahundred dollars in lawyers' fees in order to save fifty. This isthe most desirable variety of client a lawyer can have. 

One trifling weakness, common to mankind in general, gave him muchencouragement; for he soon discovered that, rather than incur thetrouble of hiring lawyers and going to court, his creditors wouldusually compound with him for considerably less than their justclaims. This happened so frequently that he almost never paid abill in the first instance, with the natural result that those whohad sent him honest bills before, after one or two experiences withhim, made it a practice to add thirty per cent. Or so to the total, in order that they might later on gracefully reduce their demandswithout loss. Thus my client, by his peevishness, actually createdthe very condition regarding which, out of an overactive imagination, he had complained originally without just cause. 

It so happened that the first matter in which he required my serviceswas a dispute over a tailor's bill that he regarded as excessive. He had ordered a pair of trousers without inquiring the price andwas shocked to discover that he had been charged three dollars morethan for his last pair. The tailor explained at great length thatthe first had been summer weight and that these were winter weight;but to no purpose. 

"You think you can take advantage of me because I'm an old man!"he shrieked in rage. "But you'll find out. Just wait until I seemy lawyer!"

So down he came to my office and fumed and chattered for an houror more about the extra three dollars on his trousers. If he hadbeen less abusive the tailor might have overlooked the matter; buteven a tailor has a soul, and this time the man swore to have thelaw on his cantankerous customer. 

"Fight to the last ditch!" shouted the old man. "Don't yield aninch!"

A day or two later the tailor served my client, whose name wasWimbleton, with a summons and complaint; and I was forced to putin an answer, in which I took issue upon the reasonable value ofthe trousers. By the time I had drawn the papers and listened tomy client's detailed history of the transaction, as well as hispicturesque denunciation of his opponent, I had already put inabout a hundred dollars' worth of my time without any prospect ofa return. I knew that if the case were tried it would mean a daylost for myself and a judgment against my client. The old fellowhad a large amount of property, however, and I was willing to takea loss if it meant future business. Yet the time involved and thetrifling character of the suit annoyed me and I resolved to takeit upon myself to settle the matter over my client's head. 

On my way home I stopped in at the tailor's and told him to takehis three dollars and discontinue his action, which he was gladenough to do. The next day I wrote Mr. Wimbleton that I had forcedhis enemy to capitulate--horse, foot, and dragoons--and that thesuit had been withdrawn. My embarrassment may be imagined when myclient arrived at the office in a state of delirious excitementand insisted not only on inviting me to dinner, but on paying mefifty dollars for services in giving him the satisfaction of beatingthe tailor. Instantly I saw a means of entirely satisfying theold man and earning some good fees without the slightest exertion. 

The same method--although for another purpose--will be recalled bymy readers as having been invoked by the unjust steward who calledhis lord's debtors to him and inquired how much they owed. One, if I remember correctly, said a hundred measures of oil. 

"Take thy bill, " said the steward, "and sit down quickly, and writefifty. "

Another, who confessed to owing a hundred measures of wheat, thesteward let off with eighty. On discovering what he had done hislord commended him for having done wisely, on the ground that thechildren of this world were wiser than the children of light. 

Thus, it will be observed, my early Biblical training stood me inpractical stead; and the only difference between the unjust stewardand myself lay in the manner in which we were each eventuallytreated by our respective masters. Indeed, I found this Scripturalscheme so profitable and effective that soon my client swore I wasthe cleverest lawyer he had ever employed. 

Some one would commence a suit against him for damages for breachof contract amounting to a couple of thousand dollars, where hethought he ought to pay only fifteen hundred, but where he reallyhad no defense. I would file an elaborate answer setting up allsorts of defences, move for an examination of the plaintiff and ofhis books and papers, secure a bill of particulars and go throughall sorts of legal hocus-pocus to show how bitterly I was contestingthe case as a matter of principle. Before the action came to trial, however, I would settle it for one thousand seven hundred and fiftydollars, telling my client that we had brought the other side tohis terms, and charge him seven hundred and fifty dollars for myservices--thus netting five hundred dollars in fees. 

Often, when the amount sued for was small--say, fifty or one hundreddollars--and where my client had absolutely declined to pay anything, I paid the claim in full, simply for the satisfaction of leadinghim to believe that he had been successful in resisting what heregarded as an unjust or excessive demand. 

This went on for several years, until, quite by chance, one of hiscreditors, with whom I had settled over his head, either out offorgetfulness or an evil wish to do me a bad turn, wrote him aletter thanking him for his generosity. The next day he appeared, purple with rage, and for some unaccountable reason, instead of"commending" me, denounced me for a shyster. And this in spite ofthe undoubted fact that my pacific methods had probably saved himhundreds of dollars!

It was about this time that Gottlieb devised a truly brilliantscheme, which had to commend it the highly desirable quality ofbeing absolutely safe. 

There is a very wise provision of our law to the effect that, wherea wife desires to bring an action against her husband for divorceand is without means for the purpose, the courts will allow her acounsel fee and alimony _pendente lite_. The counsel fee is toenable her to pay a lawyer and prepare for trial, and the amountusually varies from one hundred to one thousand dollars. 

One morning my partner came grinning into my office and showed mea very soiled and wrinkled paper. 

"What d'ye think of that?" he laughed. 

The document, which turned out to be an affidavit executed inChicago, read as follows:

"STATE OF ILLINOIS )"COOK COUNTY, CITY OF CHICAGO ) ss. 

"LIZZIE YARNOWSKI, being duly sworn, deposes and says that she isover twenty-one years of age and engaged in the employment of makingartificial flowers; that in the year 1881 the defendant inducedher to leave her home in New York and journey with him in the Westunder a promise of marriage, representing himself to be a travelingsalesman employed by a manufacturer of soda fountains; that theywere married on July 5, 1881, in the town of Piqua, Ohio, by ajustice of the peace under the names of Sadie Bings and JoshuaBlank, and by a rabbi in Chicago on August 17, 1881; that two weeksthereafter defendant deserted plaintiff and has never sincecontributed toward her support, and that she has since learned thatthe defendant is a banker and a broker, doing business on WallStreet in the city of New York. "

The affidavit then went on to state that the defendant had giventhe plaintiff good grounds for seeking for a divorce and that shewas without means to engage counsel or prepare for trial. Thecontents of the paper was skilfully worded so as to convey theimpression that the deponent was a woman of somewhat doubtfulcharacter herself, but that on the other hand she had been trickedby the defendant into a secret--and what he intended to be atemporary--marriage. Attached thereto was another affidavit fromthe justice of the peace to the effect that on the date in questionhe had united in the holy bonds of matrimony a man and a woman whohad given the names of Sadie Bings and Joshua Blank. 

"Well, Gottlieb, " said I, "this is interesting reading, whether itbe fact or fiction; but what is its significance to us?"

"Why, " answered my associate, "these are the papers I propose touse on a motion for counsel fee and alimony in a divorce actionbrought against Mr. Chester Gates, a broker downtown--and, I mayadd, a very rich and respectable young gentleman. Of course, Ihave no personal knowledge of the matter, as the case has been sentto us by one of our legal friends in Chicago; but I am quite surethat the court will grant me a counsel fee in order to enable thepoor woman to prepare her case and bring it to trial. "

"But, " I replied, "we have made just such applications a thousandtimes before, have we not?"

Gottlieb gave me one of his long, slow winks. 

"Not just like this, " said he, and went back into his room, whileI pondered on what I had read. 

A few days later Gottlieb served the complaint in an action forabsolute divorce upon Mr. Chester Gates, to the young man's greatindignation and annoyance; and shortly thereafter a very respectableand prosperous old family lawyer called upon us to explain thatthe whole matter was a mistake and that his client had never, neverbeen married, and knew no Miss Lizzie Yarnowski, either as SadieBings or under any other name. 

Gottlieb and I treated him with the greatest deference, explainingthat we had no option but to go on with the matter, as we were onlyacting for our Chicago correspondent. At this the old lawyer grewvery indignant and muttered something under his breath about perjuryand blackmail, to which, however, neither Gottlieb nor I paid anyattention. A week or so later we made our motion for alimony andcounsel fee _pendente lite_, and in spite of the vehement affidavitof Chester Gates, Esquire, that he had never seen or heard of theplaintiff nor been married to anybody in his life, the court grantedus two hundred and fifty dollars as counsel fee. 

This was made payable at our office, as the attorneys for plaintiff;and a day or two later Mr. Gates himself called and asked to seeus. He was a rosy-cheeked, athletic young fellow, who could, Ifancy, have knocked both our heads together had he chosen to do so. 

"Good afternoon, gentlemen, " said he, closing the door and seatinghimself at Gottlieb's invitation. This is a very interestingexperience you are putting me through. I am made the defendant ina divorce action and ordered to pay you two hundred and fiftydollars on affidavits that I know are perjured from start to finish. Well, if that's law I have nothing to say. Of course, you can'twin your case, because you can't prove that I ever married anybody--which latter fact, of course, you very well know. I would neverpay you a cent to settle this or any other unfounded suit, and Inever did anything for which you or any other scoun--beg pardon, Imean lawyer--could blackmail me. But this is a new one on me. You have got a court order that I am to pay you two hundred andfifty dollars to bring a bogus action against myself. Well, here'smy check for it. I congratulate you. Now, I'm amused to see whatyou're going to do next. I want to get something for may money. "

Gottlieb took the check and rang a bell for the office boy. 

"Take this over to the bank and cash it, " he directed. "That'sthe first thing I'm going to do, " turning to Gates. "The next isthis. " He opened the top drawer of his desk and took out a legalpaper. "Here, " said he, "is a discontinuance of the action, whichI received this morning from Chicago. I suppose you have noobjection to having the matter disposed of in that way? You'lltake it?"

Mr. Gates looked at him for a moment and then burst out laughing. 

"By George!" he exclaimed. "Take it? Of course I'll take it. Ihave no particular desire to go on with the litigation, I assureyou. I fully expected to be adjudged the father of a large familyof little Yarnowskis. But, now that the matter is settled, wouldyou mind telling me who the lady really is?"

Gottlieb looked at him very solemnly and, to my horror, gave animperceptible wink. 

"All I can tell you, sir, " he replied, "is that her name is LizzieYarnowski, and that you married her under the name of Sadie Bingsbefore a justice of the peace at Piqua, Ohio. "

At one time Gottlieb and I represented a very objectionable oldparty who ran a scurrilous "society" paper, chiefly for theopportunity it gave him to blackmail people. His method was thevery simple one of publishing some unfounded scandal without usingany names, and then to print a paragraph immediately following inwhich the real names of the parties appeared, ostensibly withrelation to some other item of news:

"It is a well-known fact that a certain young society couple, bothof whom have, to say the least, led rather lurid lives, are nolonger on good terms and are carrying on--_sub rosa_--independentestablishments. Mr. ---- prefers the upper West Side, while Mrs. ---- has a tidy little Louis XVI flat on Eleventh Street. Incidentallythe family mansion remains at ---- Fifth Avenue. 

"Mr. And Mrs. Kopeck Louis d'Or Jones are not going to Newport thissummer. There is a persistent rumor that Mrs. Jones will remainwith her mother on the Hudson, while her husband's plans are quiteindefinite. "

In point of fact it was Gottlieb who had invented this neat methodof publishing scandal without any of the usual attendant risks. Generally what would happen would be that the day after the issuingof the number in which the objectionable article had appeared, Mr. Kopeck Louis d'Or Jones would call up the white-haired editor of_Social Sifting_ on the telephone and tell him that he proposed tosue him for libel unless he printed an immediate retraction. Ourclient would thereupon refer him to Gottlieb, who would explain toMr. Jones that the libel in question had no reference to himwhatsoever; that he could hardly expect _favorable_ items to appearabout him unless he took a financial interest in the paper; andend by offering to negotiate a purchase for him of some of thestock. In many instances the injured parties would instantly takethis means of insuring that no further publications of such acharacter should appear. The stock usually cost about ten thousanddollars, which went into the pocket of the "General, " as he wascalled; and from that time on none but the most pleasing reflectionscould be found in the columns of his paper in regard to its newstockholder. 

Unfortunately for all parties, however, the "General" took exceptionto the size of one of our bills and we parted with mutualrecriminations, although he had paid us many thousands of dollarsin fees and we had saved him many more in judgments. He still owedus a large sum of money, but Gottlieb had tied up his property insuch a fashion that the old fellow was judgment-proof. He was thusable to snap his fingers in our faces, a fact that naturallyintensified our hard feelings against him. We cherished our angeruntil an appropriate occasion should present itself for gettingeven with him, which occurred sooner than any of us, least of allthe "General, " expected. 

It so happened that one of the victims, having failed to "comeacross" substantially enough, discovered very shortly anotherlibelous paragraph, which reflected very seriously upon his youngand attractive wife; and as it was pretty generally known at thetime that the "General" and ourselves had parted company, thehusband forthwith came to us for advice. 

"Of course, " said he ruefully, "I can't thrash a white-hairedvillain who is old enough to be my grandfather, even if I couldget to him, which is unlikely. You know he has an inner office'way off from the rest and sneaks in and out, up and down the backstairs. A suit for libel wouldn't do any good and the publicitywould hurt more than the satisfaction I might get out of a verdict. But vengeance I'll have--at any cost. How can I get it?"

Gottlieb pondered the matter for several days and at last sent forhis new client, at the same time making an appointment at our officewith a well-known feather-weight prize-fighter. 

"If you will leave this matter to me I'll guarantee--for a thousanddollars--that the 'General' shall receive as severe a pounding ashis old carcass can stand. "

The client joyfully wrote out a check to our order and an hourlater Hennessey, the celebrated bantam, arrayed in the uniform ofan overgrown messenger boy, called with a letter at the "General's"office and asked to see him. He had, he insisted, orders to deliverthe letter into nobody's hands but those of the "General" himself, and on this pretext in due course found himself, after being ledthrough a labyrinth of passages and stairs, in the presence of ourex-client. 

"Are you General ----?" he inquired. 

"That's my name, " answered the "General. "

"I've got a letter for yous, " continued the bantam, fumbling inhis cap and producing two letters, one of which he handed over. 

The "General" took it and his eye glinted for he perceived that itwas addressed to a very well-known member of society whose escapadeswere notorious. Quickly he ran his penknife through the tongue ofthe envelope. 

"Hold on, there!" suddenly cried Hennessey. "I've give yous thewrong letter. Here's yours. That one is for Mr. ----. Gimme itback!"

"One moment, my boy!" replied the "General, " hastily tearing openthe envelope. "Just one moment. "

"Don't you take out dat letter! It ain't fer yous!" expostulatedthe messenger. "Here's your letter. "

But the "General, " with watering mouth, was already feverishlydevouring a violet-colored note beginning, "Darling Guy, " hisbulbous nose close to the paper and scenting scandal in every line--that is, he devoured it until, quite unexpectedly, the bantamsquared off and proceeded to hand him a few "upper cuts, " "hooks, "and straight leads from the shoulder, until the scandalmonger howledfor mercy. But the bantam had his instructions. 

"No!" says he. Bing! "I'll teach you to read other people'sletters!" Bing! "I'll show yous what yous'll get if yous violatesde United States mail--see?" Bing! "Read Mr. ----'s letter, willyous?" Bing! "Not wit' me here--see?" Bing! Bing! "You white-haired old son of a printing-press!"

Hennessey's description, on his return to the office, of the"General's" appearance at the conclusion of his drubbing waseminently satisfactory; and he forthwith exchanged his messenger'suniform for his Broadway regalia and a crisp one-hundred dollarbill. That is the only time, so far as I ever learned, that the"General" ever got his real deserts; but I am glad that he did, for once. And the sight of his red nose--somehow it looks reddernow than it used to--invariably fills me with satisfaction. 

Quite naturally our firm attracted a number of strange wastrels inthe way of clients, all of whom were picturesque and many of themprofitable. Among these was a gentleman known as the "Human Dog, "who frequented the main thoroughfares during the crowded hours andsimulated the performances of a starving animal with a verisimilitudethat I believe to have been unsurpassed in the annals of beggary. He would go on all fours snuffling along the gutters for food andwhen he came to a morsel of offal he would fall upon it and devourit ravenously. If he found nothing he would whine and sit on hishind legs--so to speak--on the curb, with an imploring look on hishairy face. If a police officer approached the "Human Dog" wouldimmediately roll over on his back, with his legs in the air, andyelp piteously; in fact, he combined the "lay" of insanity withthat of starvation in a most ingenious and skilful manner. He wasa familiar sight and a bugbear to the police, who were constantlyarresting him; but, as he never asked for money, they had greatdifficulty in doing anything with him. Usually the magistrate senthim to the "Island, " for thirty days and then Gottlieb would gethim out on a writ of habeas corpus. Some of these writs attractedthe attention of the bar and several appear in the reports. I amunder the impression that we secured his release some twenty-nineseparate times. At last he died in a fit of apoplexy caused byovereating; and when we administered his estate we found that hehad already laid by, in a comparatively brief career, the verycreditable sum of forty-one thousand dollars. 

The "Human Dog" was but a clever variation of the "Crust-Thrower"--the beggar who tosses a dirty crust of bread into the gutter whenno one is looking and then falls upon it with a cry of fierce joy. These "crust-throwers" have plied their trade for over six hundredyears and were known in England and Flanders long before thediscovery of America. Gottlieb was very shrewd at devising schemesthat came just within the law and used to amuse himself by so doingin his leisure moments. One of the best--the idea which he soldfor three hundred dollars and which is still being used in NewYork, Chicago, and elsewhere--is the following:

An old man, with a square of plate glass in a newspaper and a bundleof glass-cutter's tools by his side is seen sitting dejectedly ona curb with his head in his hands. He has no coat and the icy windblows through his straggling locks of gray hair--a pathetic picture. He seems utterly discouraged, but no word of complaint passes hislips. Presently a well-dressed woman approaches and her pity isinstantly aroused. She accosts him, and the aged one informs herin a faint voice that he works in Harlem and has been sent by hisboss to set a pane of glass on Varick Street; but not knowingexactly where Varick Street is, he has got off the elevated atFifty-ninth Street and finds that he is still several miles fromhis destination. What woman, unless she had a heart of granite, would not be moved by such a tale! She opens her purse and poursits contents into his lap; for it is a psychological truth that, if you can once get a woman up to the point of giving anything, she will give all that she has. How often have I seen these oldmen--the children of Gottlieb's brain--sitting patiently and silentlyon the streets! And how often have they paid us handsome fees toget them out of the "jug"!

In this catalogue of clients I must not forget "Banana Anna, " whorecently, I am sad to say, met her Waterloo. Anna was a lady sopeculiarly gifted by the Almighty that she was able at will tosimulate a very severe physical mishap. I shall not describe withany greater degree of particularity what her precise afflictionwas, save to say that if genuine it would have entitled her to thesympathy and generosity of mankind. It was the kind of thing thatmight easily result from a fall; but which, in fact, under ordinarycircumstances gave her no inconvenience whatever. 

Anna would conceal a bit of banana peel in her muff and, droppingin upon a station platform, would put her heel upon it and fallprostrate, uttering a groan of pain. The guard would come hastilyto her assistance and find, to his horror, a woman with every markof respectability suffering terrible agony from a condition obviouslythe result of a fall caused by a bit of banana skin carelessly leftlying upon the premises. An ambulance would be summoned, but shewould insist upon being taken to her own home--an imposing mansion--and calling her own physician. In due course the railroad wouldsend its doctor, who would report that her condition was serious;and, as the leaving of a banana peel upon a public platform is inits very nature "negligent, " the company's lawyer would recommendsettlement. Thus "Banana Anna" was able to live in comfort if notin luxury; and an infirmity that might under other circumstanceshave been a curse became, in fact, a blessing. Of course she tooka new name and hired--temporarily--a new residence for each accident;but, as she moved from city to city, she was able to keep up thesame old ruse for years. 

Perhaps our most interesting client was the one who made his livingby supplying "to the trade" all kinds of corporate bonds andcertificates of stock. Some of these bonds had originally beenissued by corporations in good standing, but had been exchanged, cancelled, outlawed, or in some other way had become valueless. How our client secured them I never discovered. He also dealt inthe repudiated bonds of Southern cities and States, which can bepurchased for practically nothing almost everywhere. 

His principal line of goods, however, was the bonds of companiesthat he incorporated himself and disposed of at cut rates to aclientele all his own. These companies all bore impressive names, such as Tennessee Gas, Heat, and Power Company, the Mercedes-Panard-Charon Motor Vehicle Supply Company, the Nevada Coal, Coke, Iron, and Bi-product Company, the Chicago Banking and Securities Company, the Southern Georgia Land and Fruit Company, and so on. He had animpressive office in a marble-fronted building on Wall Street, doors covered with green baize inside and gold lettering outside, and he wore a tall hat and patent-leather shoes. He also had aforce of several young lady stenographers and clerks, who acted asthe officers and directors of his various concerns, all of whichwere legally incorporated under the laws of West Virginia and NewJersey. His clients were the gilt-edged "con" men of Wall andNassau Streets, who, when they needed them, could purchase a coupleof hundred engraved one-thousand-dollar bonds of imposing appearance, in a real corporation, for a few hundred dollars in cash. 

Our client did not act as an officer of these himself, but merelytook a power of attorney from the president, secretary, and treasurer, authorizing him to sign their names to these bond issues. Yet noone ever saw these officers, all of whom had names connotative ofwealth and financial responsibility. The Gates, Morgan, Rogers, and other families multiplied and brought forth at the mere waveof his pen. If you wished a half-million bond issue you simplycalled him up on the telephone and some "Light and Power Company"would hold a directors' meeting and vote a fifty-year debenturegold seven-per-cent security that you could peddle around at fifty-eight and one-eighth to unsuspecting investors, so as to net themmerely thirteen per cent. On their money--when they got it. Youcould buy a million in these bonds for about three hundred andseventy-five dollars and fifty cents; but they were real bonds inreal companies and legally issued against some form of property, even if it had no market value. Sometimes, I am told, thesesecurities paid interest for a year or so, and the suckers gottheir friends in while there were a few left--bonds, I mean--thereare always suckers. 

Like other egoists, our client became careless as time went on andone day took it upon himself to issue a few hundred bonds in acompany without holding a directors' meeting. He should not beseverely blamed for neglecting a detail of this sort when he wasso well aware of its purely formal if not farcical character. Still, it was one of those little slips that even the most carefulof us will sometimes make, and the district-attorney took anunderhand advantage of our friend and indicted him for forging thenames of the officers of the company to an unauthorized issue ofbonds. Gottlieb and I had, perforce, to defend him; but, unfortunately, his real defence would have been even worse than the charge. Hecould not say that there was no real company and that there wereno such human beings as the persons whose names he had writtenacross the back of the bonds in question. 

Poor fellow! He was an absolutely innocent man. Yet he went toSing Sing for seven years for committing no crime at all. Howcould he forge the names of persons who did not exist? However, he had invented these financial Frankensteins and they finallyoverwhelmed him. Somewhere lying around I have my share of thefee in this case--I forget just where. It consists of fourteenmillions in the securities of the National Mortgage and SecurityCompany of Jampole, Mississippi. 

CHAPTER VII

The fear that most people have of the criminal law has its originin their ignorance of it. They are, luckily, most of them unfamiliarwith bailiffs and constables, except at a distance. The gruffvoice of authority has echoed but dimly for them. They have heardof the "third degree, " "the cooler, " "the sweat-box, " and "thebracelets, " yet they have never seen the inside of a station-house;and their knowledge of jails, if they have any at all, is derivedfrom reading in their childhood of the miraculous escapes of BaronTrenck or the Fall of the Bastille. They picture officers of thelaw as human bulldogs, with undershot, foam-dripping jaws andbloodshot eyes. The bourne--from which so many travellers neverreturn--bounded by the criminal statutes, is a _terra incognita_to the average citizen. A bailiff with a warrant for his arrestwould cause his instant collapse and a message that "all wasdiscovered" would--exactly as in the popular saw--lead him to fleeat once. 

Upon this dread of the unknown the criminal attorney plays wheneverpossible. It is his strongest asset, his stock in trade. Thecivil lawyer, vaguely believing that there must be a criminal lawto cover every obvious wrong, retains him to put the screws on theevil-doer and bring him to terms. The man who has done a dirtybusiness trick--in reality a hundred miles from being a crime--engages the shyster to keep him out of jail. The practical weaponof the criminal lawyer is the warrant of arrest. Just as at civillaw any one can bring a groundless suit and subject his enemy tomuch annoyance and expense, so almost anybody can get almost anybodyelse arrested. Of course if there is no justification for it asuit for malicious prosecution and false arrest may arise; but mostpersons who resort to such tactics are "judgment proof" and thecivil law has no terrors for them at all. At least fifty personsout of every hundred would gladly pay an unrighteous claim ratherthan be subjected to the humiliation of arrest, even if theirconfinement were of the most temporary character. 

In New York the right of having the defendant arrested in certainclasses of civil cases is a matter of statute. It is a preliminaryremedy not half as much availed of as it might be. The young ladywho brings a breach-of-promise suit against her faithless followerhas the right to put him under arrest and make him give bail; andthe young gentleman who would laugh ordinarily at the mere serviceof papers may well settle her claim if a sheriff whispers in hisear that he has a warrant for his person. 

In the early days, before Gottlieb and I practised at the criminalbar, a judgment creditor could arrest and lock up his delinquentdebtor. This was a most ancient and honorable form of redress;and the reader has undoubtedly read dozens of novels in which someof the scenes are laid in "Fleet Street. " This locking up of peoplewho owed other people money but could not meet their just obligationswas sanctified by tradition and deeply rooted in our jurisprudence;but the law governing the procedure in such cases was highlytechnical and the wind of destiny was somewhat tempered to theshorn lamb of the creditor. Thus, a warrant for the arrest of adebtor could not be executed on the Sabbath, and, of course, hadno value outside of the State. Accordingly the neighboring citiesof New Jersey harbored thousands of bankrupt New Yorkers who couldnot pay their bills and suffered a voluntary exile until they shouldbe in funds again. Indeed, there were certain hostelries entirelygiven over to their accommodation. The man who had defied hiscreditors simply converted his available property into ready cashand slipped across the river to Jersey City or Hoboken, where heremained six days in every week and returned to the bosom of hisadoring family on the seventh. 

Later on civil orders of arrest were limited by statute to certainclasses of cases, such as, for instance, the conversion of money. 

Among our clients there was a certain exceedingly attractive younglady of French extraction, named Mademoiselle Valerie Carrell, whowas a popular favorite upon the light-opera stage when light operawas in swaddling-clothes. Our fair client, like many anotherhistrionic genius, had more charm than business ability and waspersuaded by an unscrupulous manager to intrust to him a large sumof money for investment in his various enterprises. Time went on, and, although he seemed to be successful in his ventures, he insistedthat he had no money and was absolutely unable to repay her. Inutter desperation she came to Gottlieb and myself for assistanceand we speedily secured judgment for the full amount--fifteenthousand dollars--after a hotly contested trial, in which thedefendant perjured himself very unlike a gentleman. The only resultwas that Mr. Brown, the manager, gayly offered to settle for fifteenhundred, and, on receiving a curt refusal, transferred his residenceto Hoboken, from which place he managed his business and paidfurtive visits to the metropolis in the night-time. On Sundays, however, he always appeared in full regalia on Broadway and couldinvariably be seen entertaining his friends lavishly in therestaurants. 

Gottlieb suffered this course of conduct to become a habit and theninformed me that he proposed to collect the full amount of MademoiselleCarrell's judgment upon the following Monday. I expressed someincredulity at the idea, but later events proved that my partnerwas well justified in his prophecy. We had long before procureda warrant for Brown's arrest and the only difficulty lay in executingit upon a week-day. Sunday came and as usual Brother Brown, withhis customary bravado, made his appearance in the city. Thatevening Gottlieb invited me to dine with him at the resort ordinarilyfrequented by our quarry. True to his invariable custom, Brownturned up there with a party of his cronies and spent the eveningin merry feasting, presumably upon the money of our client. Itwas a clear, moonlight night and when the glowworm showed the matinto be near--or, more correctly, when it neared twelve o'clock--Brown beckoned to the waiter, paid his bill out of a fat roll ofgreenbacks, winked good-naturedly at us, and bade his friends good-night. A moment or two later Gottlieb whispered to me to followhim and we stepped forth upon the street. Brown was strollingquietly down Broadway toward Twenty-third Street. A short distancebehind followed a thick-set man with a square-cut jaw whom I hadfrequently noticed in Gottlieb's office. 

On the corner of the cross-town thoroughfare Brown paused, lookedfirst at the moon and then at his watch, and proceeded on hisconstitutional toward the ferry. The street, save for a distantand presumably somnolent policeman, was deserted. The thick-setman crossed to the other side of the way, quickened his steps, overtook and passed Brown, recrossed and sauntered toward him. Amoment later there was a collision between them, voices were raisedin angry altercation and presently Brown was rolling undignifiedlyon the pavement, his calls for the police rending the stillness ofthe night. The officer hastily approached, whistling wildly foraid. Gottlieb and I took refuge in an adjacent doorway. Abruptly, however, Brown's outcries ceased. It is probably that a suddenvision of the consequences of an appeal to police protection cameto him as he lay like an overturned June-bug upon the sidewalk. But the law had been invoked. The car of Juggernaut had startedupon its course. 

"What's the trouble here?" cried the policeman, as he arrivedpanting upon the scene. 

"This fellow here assaulted me!" instantly answered the man withthe bulldog jaw. 

"It's a lie!" bellowed Brown, climbing to his feet. 

"Well, what have you got to say?" inquired the officer. 

Brown hesitated. If he made a counter charge he realized that hewould have to go to the police station to make the complaint. Thiswould keep him in the city until after midnight. 

"Well?" continued the policeman. 

Still Brown paused, rapidly taking account of stock. If he didnot deny the charge in terms he would be locked up, which was justas bad. But the bull-jawed chap spoke first. 

"I want this man arrested!" he insisted. "He deliberately attackedme!"

"I did no such thing!" shouted Brown. "He came at me withoutprovocation and knocked me down. "

"It took you long enough to say so, " commented the officer. "I'llhave to take you along to the house. Come on, both of you. "

Grasping Brown by the arm, he marched him down the street. Suddenlythe unfortunate manager began to pour forth a long explanation, quite incoherent so far as the policeman was concerned. He wasthe victim of a frame-up--it was a job to get him arrested. Theofficer remarked unsympathetically that he had heard that sort ofthing many times before. Gottlieb and I skulked in the rear. Whenthe police station was at last reached the thick-set man made acharge of assault against the manager and Brown was compelledperforce to make a similar charge against his adversary. Then bothwere locked up to await a hearing the next morning in the magistrate'scourt, when, after a prolonged examination, Brown was dischargedwith an admonition against a too free indulgence in alcoholicliquors. 

"Don't be hard on him, judge, " said the bull-jawed man. "I had notrouble in defending myself. I think he has had lesson enough. "

Much the worse for wear, Mr. Brown passed out of the court-room, only to be confronted on the sidewalk by a marshal with a warrantfor his arrest. It was Monday morning. His period of immunitywas over. His eye caught Gottlieb and myself standing on thecorner. 

"Well, boys, " he exclaimed ruefully, "I'm caught. How much is itgoing to cost?"

"Fifteen thousand dollars, " answered Gottlieb, adding, after amoment's pause--"and disbursements. "

I need hardly add that Mr. Brown lost no time in raising thenecessary ransom and within the hour had paid his judgment in fulland secured his discharge. The days are long since over, however, when judgment defaulters had anything to fear; and now a beneficentbankruptcy law, merely for the asking, washes all their debts away. But the power to secure another's arrest is even more easilyavailable now than in the days of my early practice owing to thegreat number of new crimes created by the statutes. 

One of the most ingenious devices for extorting money that evercame to my attention was invented by a client of mine named Levine--a poor sort of character, to be sure, but cleverer than many abetter man. In detail his method was as follows: He first boughtat wholesale a large quantity of cheap watches covered with goldplate. To the inexperienced they looked as if they might possiblybe worth forty or fifty dollars apiece. They cost Levine abouttwo dollars and twenty-five cents each. His next step was to selectsome small shop belonging to a plumber, grocer, or electricianwhich was ordinarily left in the charge of a clerk while the ownerwas out attending to his work or securing orders. Levine wouldfind some excuse for entering the shop, engage the clerk inconversation, and having secured his attention would produce oneof his watches and extol its merits at length, explaining what agreat bargain it was and how--only owing to an exceptionalconcatenation of circumstances--he was able to offer it for theridiculously low figure of thirty dollars. 

Now it never made any difference to Levine whether the clerk wantedthe watch or not. His procedure remained the same in all cases. He would first offer to let the fellow have it by paying one dollara week on the installment plan. If this did not appeal to theclerk Levine would persuade him to keep it for a short time onapproval, paying down a dollar "as security. " Almost all of hisvictims would agree to this if only to be rid of him. In defaultof aught else he would lay the watch on the counter and run away. 

Nothing more would occur for a couple of weeks, during which theclerk would hold the watch pending its owner's return, littlesuspecting what was going on meantime. Levine, having "landed"his watch, immediately swore to a verified complaint in an actionat law for "goods sold and delivered, " setting forth on the datein question he had sold--not to the clerk, but to his _employer_--a gold watch for the sum of fifty dollars, which the latter hadthen and there promised to pay for at once. The complaint furtherrecited that the money had been duly demanded and payment refused, and asked judgment for fifty dollars and the costs and disbursementsof the action. Levine would then procure from some irresponsibleperson an affidavit that the latter had personally served a copyof the complaint in question, together with a summons, upon thedefendant, and place the case on the calendar for trial. Of courseno papers were in fact served upon anybody and Levine would in duecourse secure judgment by default for sixty-odd dollars. Armedwith a certified copy of the judgment and a writ of attachment, and accompanied by a burly deputy marshal selected for the ferocityof his appearance, Levine would wait until some opportune time whenthe owner of the shop was again absent and the shop had been leftin charge of the same clerk or a member of the family. Burstingroughly in, he would demand whether or not it was the intention ofthe owner to pay the judgment, while at the same moment the deputywould levy on the stock in trade. 

The owner of the shop, having been hastily summoned, would returnto demand angrily what the rumpus was all about. By this time theclerk would have recovered his wits sufficiently to denounce theproceeding as an outrage and the suit as baseless. But his master, who saw judgment against himself for sixty dollars and his goodsactually under attachment, was usually in no mood to listen to, much less believe, his clerk's explanations. At all events, theyavailed naught, when Levine, with an expression of horror at suchdeliberate mendacity on the part of the clerk, was wont to say:

"Ask him, pray, whether he has not got the watch in his pocket atthis very moment!"

Usually this was indeed the fact, as the clerk had no idea whatelse to do with it until Levine should return. 

"So-ho!" his master would shout wrathfully. "What do you mean bysaying that you did not agree to buy the watch? Why, you have keptit all the time! What's more, you've pretended to buy it in myname! And now my shop is turned into a bear garden and there isa judgment against me and my goods are attached! A fine result ofyour extravagance!"

"But I never agreed to buy it!" insists the clerk. "This man leftit here on approval!"

"Pish!" answers the employer. "That is all very well; but whathave you to say to the judgment of the court? Now, my fine fellow, you will either pay up this money that you owe or I'll advance itmyself and take it out of your wages. "

In every case, despite the protests of the clerk, the money wouldbe handed over and the shop released from levy. Unfortunately, after working the game for several years, Levine came a cropper bycarelessly trying it on one of the same clerks that he had victimizedsome time before. The clerk, being of an unusually vindictivedisposition, followed the matter up. Having first arrested theman who made the false affidavit of service, he induced him to turnState's evidence against my client and landed the latter in jail. Being a great reader, however, Levine did not find his incarcerationparticularly unpleasant; and, hearing of the Court of Appealsdecision in the McDuff case, he spent his time in devising newschemes to take the place of his now antiquated specialty. On hisrelease he immediately became a famous "sick engineer" and for along time enjoyed the greatest prosperity, until one of his friendsvictimized him at his own game by inducing him to bet ten thousanddollars on the outcome of a prize-fight that he was simple-mindedenough to believe had already been fought and won. 

This was an elaborate variation of the ordinary wire-tapping game, where the sucker or lamb is introduced to a person alleged to bean inside official of a large telegraph company, who is ready tosell advance information of the results of sporting events in returnfor a share in the profits. The victim is taken to a supposed"branch office" of the company and actually hears the results ofthe races coming in over the wires and being telephoned to the pool-rooms. Of course the whole place is merely a plant fitted up forhis benefit. He is then taken to a supposed pool-room and givesup his money for the purpose of having it placed as a wager on ahorse-race already won. Under the McDuff case, it had been heldby the courts that he had parted with his money for an illegal anddishonest purpose--to wit, in an attempt to win money from anotherwho was wagering his own money in good faith--and the rogue whohad seduced his conscience and slit his purse went free. This wasLevine's favorite field of operations. 

But his friend went him one better. Knowing that Levine had saltedaway a lot of money, he organized a gang of "cappers" and boosters, who made a great talk about the relative merits of two well-knownpugilists. It was given out that a fight was to be "pulled off"up the Hudson and a party was made up to attend it. A private carwas taken by the friend in question and Levine was the guest ofhonor. Champagne flowed freely. The fight came off in a desertedbarn near a siding above Poughkeepsie; and Levine wagered all ofhis money, with other prosperous-looking guests in the car, underthe assumption that a bargain had been made between the "pugs" thathis man should win. But the supposed sports were all "boosters"in his friend's pay and the other man won after a spirited exhibition, which, although exciting, hardly consoled Levine for the loss ofhis money. 

It is a curious fact that those of my clients who made great sumsfrom time to time in ways similar to these rarely had any money;most of them died in abject poverty. Sooner or later all ran foulof the law and had to give up to the lawyers all they had managedto lay by. 

When at last John Holliday, a dealer in automatic musical instruments, was "trimmed" out of sixty-five thousand dollars by various schemesof this character, the tardy Legislature finally amended the penalcode in such a way as to do away with the farcical doctrine of theMcDuff case and drove all our erstwhile clients out of business. 

CHAPTER VIII

"Shake hands with Mr. Dillingham, Quib, " said Gottlieb as I oneday unexpectedly entered the latter's office. "We have a matteron hand in which he is interested. "

"Glad to know you, Mr. Quibble, " quoth the client, extending arather soft hand. "Your name is well known to me, although I havenever personally had the pleasure of your acquaintance. "

"The future will, I trust, remedy that, " I replied, not particularlyimpressed with the stranger's features or expression, but conscioussomehow of the smell of money about him. For he was short and fatand wore a brown surtout and a black stovepipe hat, and his littlegray eyes peeped out of full, round, red cheeks. On his lower lipwe wore a tiny goatee. 

"As I was saying, " he continued, turning again to my partner, "weall of us make mistakes and I made the biggest one when I annexedthe present Mrs. D. I was a young fool hardly out of my teens, and the sight of a pretty face and a tearful story of woe were toomuch for me. She was an actress. _Comprenez?_ A sort of LydiaLanguish, la-de-da kind of a girl. Oh, she caught me fast enough, and it was only after I had swallowed the hook, sinker and all, that I found out she was married. "

"Ho-ho!" remarked Gottlieb. "The old story. "

"The same little old story, " assented Dillingham. "Take a cigar?"He produced a well-filled case. 

I dropped into a chair and hitched it toward them. 

"Now, the fact of the matter is, " continued he, "she wouldn't lookat me as long as she was tied to her husband, miserable rat thoughhe was; and he was and is a rat! I could call and take her out todinner, and all that, but--pst! nothing more! and she was alwaystelling me how I was her good angel and inspired her to higherthings! Gad! even then it bored me! But I could see nothing buther face. You know how it is. I was twenty-six and a clerk in ahardware house. "

He laughed grimly. 

"Well, as luck would have it, my Uncle John died just about thattime and left me ten thousand dollars and I started in to make hermy own by getting her a divorce. Now, this husband of hers was awretched fellow--the son of a neighbor--who never got beyond beinga waiter in a railroad station. Say, it is rather rough, eh? Tothink of me, Dillingham, of Dillingham, Hodges & Flynn, the biggestindependent steel man in the State, tied up to a pale-faced womanwho can't speak the King's English properly and whose first husbandis a waiter--yes, a waiter to-day, understand, in a railroadrestaurant at Baltimore! It makes me sick every time I go toWashington. I can't eat--fact! So I hired a lawyer for her--youknow him, I guess--Bunce. Oscar Willoughby Bunce! And he prepareddivorce papers--Oh, we had cause enough! And the next time Hawkins--that was the husband's name, Arthur P. Hawkins--came over to NewYork, to borrow some money from his wife, Bunce slapped a summonson him. It makes me squirm to think how delighted I was to knowwe had actually begun our case. Hawkins hired a lawyer, I believe, and pretended he was going to put up a defence, but I bought himoff and we got our decree by default. Then, gentlemen"--Dillinghampaused with a wry face--"I had the inestimable privilege of marryingmy present wife!"

He sucked meditatively on his cigar for a few moments before resuminghis narrative. 

"Curious, isn't it--the fascination of the stage? You, gentlemen, probably have observed it even more than I have; but when he seesa slim girl with yellow curls capering around in tights behind thefootlights, a young man's imagination runs riot and he fancies herthe incarnation of coquetry and the personification of vivaciousloveliness. I admit it--the present Mrs. Dillingham was a dancer. On the stage she used to ogle me out of my shoes and off it she'dhelp me spend my money and drink my wine and jolly me up to beatthe cars; but once I'd married her she changed completely. Insteadof a dashing, snappy, tantalizing sort of a little Yum-Yum, sheturned religious and settled down so you wouldn't have known her. There was nothing in it. Instead of a peach I had acquired a lemon. I expected champagne and found I was drinking buttermilk. Get me?You would never have guessed she'd been inside a theatre in herlife. Well, we got along the best we could and she made a hit atthe church, as a brand plucked from the burning. Used to tell herexperiences Friday nights and have all the parsons up to five-o'clock tea. Meanwhile I forgot my romantic dreams of flashingeyes and twinkling feet and began to get interested in business. To-day I'm worth real money and am on top of the heap downtown;but socially--Good Lord! the woman's a millstone! She's grown fatand talks through her nose, and--"

"You want to get rid of her, " finished Gottlieb. 

"Exactly!" answered Dillingham. "How much will it cost?"

"I think you had better give me your check for ten thousand dollarsto begin with, " replied my partner. "Such a case presents greatdifficulties--almost insuperable without money. I am not even surethat what you want can be accomplished without running grave personalrisks--not on your part, but on ours. Such risks must be compensatedfor. What you desire, I take it, is to have your marriage annulled. To do that it will be necessary to prove that the divorce procuredby Mrs. Dillingham from her former husband, Hawkins, was improperlyand illegally granted. We must knock out the decree in Hawkins_versus_ Hawkins somehow or other. To be frank with you, it maycost you a large sum. "

"It is worth it, " answered Dillingham. "Free me from this womanand I'll give you twenty-five thousand dollars. "

"Make it thirty-five thousand dollars, " coaxed Gottlieb. 

"Well, then, thirty-five thousand dollars, " said Dillingham aftera pause. 

"But you must promise to do exactly what we tell you!" continuedmy partner. 

"I expect to, " replied the other. 

"Very good, then, " said Gottlieb. "In the first place, the originaldecree is no good unless the summons actually was served on Hawkinsand the suit properly commenced. Now, perhaps Bunce served thewrong man. He didn't know Hawkins. The latter was merely pointedout to him. Already I begin to feel that there is grave doubt asto whether the proceedings in Hawkins _versus_ Hawkins were everlegally initiated. "

"Hold on, Mr. Gottlieb!" remonstrated Dillingham. "You want to goeasy there. After Hawkins was served he retained a lawyer. I knowthat, dammit, because it cost me twenty-five hundred dollars toget rid of him. "

"What was his name?" asked Gottlieb sharply. 

"Crookshank--Walter E. Crookshank--down on Nassau Street. "

Gottlieb gave a short, dry laugh. 

"Luck's with you, Dillingham. Crookshank died three years ago. "

None of us broke silence for the space of about two minutes. 

"You see now why this sort of thing costs money?" finally remarkedmy partner. 

Dillingham wiped his forehead with his handkerchief nervously. 

"Say, " he began, "isn't that taking a pretty long chance? I--"

"It is taking no chance at all, " retorted Gottlieb, his little eyesglistening like a snake's. "You have simply retained us to see ifyour wife's original divorce was regular--not to see if it wasirregular--catch on? You tell us nothing. We ask you nothing. We make our investigation. Much to our surprise and horror, wediscover that the defendant never was served--perhaps that he nevereven knew of the proceeding until years afterward. We don't knowwhat you know. We simply advise you the divorce is N. G. And youask no questions. We'll attend to all that--for our thirty-fivethousand dollars. "

"Well, you know your business, " responded Dillingham hesitantly, "and I leave the matter in your hands. How long will it take?"

"Everything now depends on our friend Hawkins, " replied Gottlieb. "We may be able to hand you your manumission papers in threemonths. "

When Dillingham had written out his check and bade us good day Ino longer made any pretence of concealing from my partner myperturbation. I had, of course, known that from time to time wehad skated on thin ice; but this was the first occasion upon whichGottlieb had deliberately acknowledged to a client that he wouldresort to perjury to accomplish his ends. 

"Don't you think we're running entirely too close to the wind?" Iasked, pacing up and down the office. 

"My dear Quib, " answered Gottlieb soothingly, "don't agitate yourselfover so trifling a matter. The only living man who can prove thatHawkins was served is Bunce--and Bunce is a fool. At best it wouldsimply be one swearing against the other. We have a perfect rightto believe Hawkins in preference to Bunce if we choose. Anyhow, we're not the judge. All we have to do is to present the evidenceat our command--if we can get it. And, by God! we will get it ifit costs us ten thousand dollars! Why, Quib, the thing is awindfall. Thirty-five thousand! Why, thirty-five _hundred_ forsuch a case would be a big fee!"

"I don't know!" I answered, for I felt a curious premonition inthe matter. "Something tells me that we ought to take no chances. "

"Come, come!" quoth Gottlieb, with a light show of irritation. "Don't lose your nerve. You've done many a worse thing than this, to my own knowledge!"

I do not pretend to any virtue in the matter and yet I must admitto some feelings of compunction about Mrs. Dillingham. Truth totell, I had taken a strong dislike to her husband, with his sleekconfidence and cold-blooded selfishness. In addition, I was quitesure that there was some other fell reason why he wished to divorceher--probably he had another marriage in contemplation, even if hehad not admitted it. 

"I wish we could make the beggar do his own dirty work, " Iexclaimed. 

"But what does he pay us for?" inquired Gottlieb innocently. "Quib, just think of the money!"

I had, in fact, been thinking of the money, and it looked very goodto me. Since my days in Haight & Foster's law office, a great, great change had come in my manner of life; and, though my friendsto a great extent remained among the theatrical and sporting classto which I had received my first introduction on coming to NewYork, I now occupied a large brick house with stone trimmings inWashington Square, where I entertained in truly luxurious fashion. I had a French cook and an English butler, and drove a pair oftrotters that were second to none except those of William H. Vanderbilt, with whom I had many a fast brush on the speedways. 

Though I had never allowed myself to be caught in the net ofmatrimony, I had many friends among the fair sex, particularlyamong those who graced the footlights; and some of my eveningparties did not break up until dawn was glinting over the roofs ofthe respectable mansions round about me. It was a gay life, butit cost money--almost more money than I could make; and my sharein the thirty-five thousand dollars offered by our friend Dillinghamwould go a long way to keeping up my establishment for anotheryear. So I allowed my qualms to give me no further uneasiness andtold myself that Gottlieb was clever enough to manage the businessin such a fashion that there would be no "come-back. "

A week or so later I encountered in our office a narrow-shouldered, watery-eyed, reddish-nosed party that I instantly recognized forHawkins. There could be no doubt about the matter, for he had away of standing at attention and thrusting his head forward whenaddressed that were unmistakable. He was waiting, it turned out, for Gottlieb, who had sent for him to come on from Baltimore; andthe readiness with which he had responded could be better accountedfor by the five hundred dollars which he had received at the handsof our emissary for travelling expenses than by any desire on hispart to regain the society of the present Mrs. Dillingham. 

"I suppose, " began Gottlieb when he had retired to the seclusionof his inner office, "that you fully understand that the divorcesecured by your wife is inoperative--Tut! Tut! Don't interruptme!"--for Hawkins had opened his mouth in protest--"for the reason--for the very good reason, I repeat--that you were never servedwith any summons or notified that the proceeding had been commenced. Am I correct?"

Hawkins grinned and turned his watery eyes from one of us to theother. 

"Quite so, sir!" he stuttered. "Exactly, sir!"

"Now, on the contrary, if any one says you were served with sucha paper, it was quite impossible for the reason--by the way, what_was_ the reason?"

Hawkins dropped one eyelid to a narrow slit and pursed his lips. 

"Quite impossible, sir! The fact is, sir, I was waitin' on a dinin'-car that ran at the time between San Antonio and New Orleans, sir. "

"You see, Quib?" exclaimed Gottlieb. "My suspicions in the matterwere quite correct. This gentleman has been most outrageouslytreated! If you will kindly retire for a moment--as I have a matterwhich I wish to discuss with him privately--I will turn him overto you for the purpose of taking his affidavit. "

A few moments thereafter Hawkins appeared in my office, apparentlyin the act of stuffing something into his pocket, and announcedthat he was ready to sign his "davy. " Although I had no taste forthe business, there was nothing for it but to do my part; so Icalled in a stenographer and dictated the following:

"SUPREME COURT--COUNTY OF NEW YORK

"RUFUS P. DILLINGHAM, Plaintiff ) _against_ ) _Action for Annulment of Marriage_ LILIAN DILLINGHAM, Defendant )

"CITY AND COUNTY OF NEW YORK, _ss_. :

"ARTHUR P. HAWKINS, being duly sworn, deposes and says: That heis forty-three years old, a waiter by occupation, and resides inthe city of Baltimore, Maryland; that he was married to the defendantherein on the eighteenth day of June, 187-, and thereafter livedwith her as man and wife until the month of December, 1882, whenfor some reason unknown to deponent the defendant left his houseand did not thereafter return; that he has recently learned thatsaid defendant, in July, 1887, procured a decree of divorce againsthim in the county and State of New York, upon grounds of whichdeponent is totally ignorant, and that thereafter said defendantcontracted a marriage with one Rufus P. Dillingham, the plaintifftherein; that deponent was never served with any summons or complaintin said action of divorce and had no knowledge or information thatany such proceeding was pending against him; that he never appearedin such proceeding and until recently always supposed that thedefendant was his lawful wife. 

"Sworn to before me this fourteenth ) day of September, 1894 ) ARTHUR P. HAWKINS"ISAAC M. COHEN, "Notary Public, New York County. "

There was something about this seedy rascal that filled me withdisgust and suspicion, and he looked at me out of the corners ofhis evil eyes as if he knew that by some trick of fate he had mein his power and was gloating over it. Even while he was swearingto the paper he had a sickly sneer on his pimply face that sickenedme, and when Cohen, my clerk, administered the oath to him he hadthe audacity to wink in his face and answer:

"It's the truth--_not!_"

Cohen, who knew a thing or two and had taken affidavits before, merely laughed, but the words sent a shiver down my spine and Isnarled out:

"Be careful what you're saying! Do you swear that this affidavitof yours is true?"

"Yes, sir! Yes, sir!" he hastened to answer, somewhat chagrinedat my not taking as a joke what he had intended for one. 

"Very well, " I said to Cohen. "Show the gentleman out. I'm verybusy. Good-day. "

Afterward I would have given all the money I possessed to undo whatI had done. 

The case of Dillingham _versus_ Dillingham duly came on for trial, with Oscar Willoughby Bunce as the chief witness for defendant. He had visited our office several times in an attempt to convinceus that we were entirely misinformed in regard to the service ofthe papers in the original action and had insisted vehemently thathe had personally delivered them to Hawkins in the office of theAstor House. Gottlieb had gently assured him that he must bemistaken and bowed him out, but Bunce for once in his little toycareer was "all up in the air. " He felt that his own integritywas, in some mysterious way, at stake, since it was upon his owntestimony to the effect that he had made the service of the papersin question that the original decree had in part been granted. The case was sent to a referee for hearing, and on the morning ofthe day set Gottlieb called me into his office and said:

"Harkee, Quib! I've a plan that will put our little friend Bunce'snose out of joint for good. It is nearly seven years now since hehas seen Hawkins and it was then only for a moment. "

"Well, " said I, "what is your game?"

"Come along to the hearing and you'll find out, my lad, " answeredGottlieb. "Don't fail if you want to see some fun. "

Curious to discover what trick Gottlieb would be able to play, Iaccordingly arranged my work so as to attend the hearing, whichwas to be held in the referee's office in an old wooden buildingon Broadway. As I climbed the stairs I caught sight of Hawkinsskulking on one of the landings, but he laid a finger on his lipsand I passed on and up to the attorney's office. The room, likemost old-fashioned lawyers' offices, was but dimly lighted, and onentering I found the other side, with the exception of Mrs. Dillingham, already there. The referee sat at one end of a largetable, surrounded by his books, with his stenographer beside him;and to his left sat Bunce and a lawyer named Stires, the present"attorney of record" for the defendant. I took my seat oppositethem, introduced myself to the referee and waited. In a few momentsthe door opened noisily and Gottlieb entered with much bustle, accompanied by a clerk carrying books and papers and by a perfectlystrange man, arrayed in very new clothes, who seemed much embarrassedand doubtful as to what he should do. 

"Good afternoon, gentlemen!" exclaimed Gottlieb breezily. "I regretto have kept you waiting, but I was unavoidably detained. ShallI sit down here? Yes? Very good. Please take your seat besideme, Mr. Hawkins. "

The stranger blushed, fumbled his hat, and sat down bashfully inthe place designated. 

"Are you ready to proceed, gentlemen?" inquired the referee overhis spectacles. "Call your first witness. "

Bunce, who had been fidgeting in his eagerness to tell what heknew, instantly bobbed up and asked to be sworn. 

After giving his name, age, and profession, he detailed how he hadprepared the papers in the original case of Hawkins _versus_ Hawkinsand served them upon the defendant personally at the Astor House. 

"I handed them to Mr. Hawkins myself and explained them to him. He was dressed very much as he is now, " cried Bunce. 

"Do you positively identify this gentleman on your oath as theperson you served with the summons and complaint?" inquired Gottliebas if the matter were merely one of routine. 

"Absolutely!" retorted Bunce hotly. "I could identify him anywhereby the shape of his nose. I took especial pains to remark hisappearance in case the service should ever be disputed. "

"Thank you. That is all, " said Gottlieb. Then turning to thestranger he directed him to take the stand. 

"What is your name?" he asked sternly. 

"Aaron Finkelstein--as you know very well, Mr. Gottlieb, " answeredthe stranger. 

"Do you recognize this gentleman who has just testified?" indicatingBunce. 

"As far as I know I never saw him in my life, " answered Finkelstein. 

"Did he ever serve you with any papers--in the Astor House oranywhere else?"

"Never. "

"What is your business?"

"I am an undertaker. "

In an instant the room was in a turmoil, Bunce screaming out thathe had been tricked by a parcel of shysters, Gottlieb indignantlydefending his ruse as a perfectly proper method of discreditingBunce, and the referee vainly endeavoring to restore order. Asfor myself, in spite of my anxiety over the whole affair, I couldnot do otherwise than laugh heartily over Bunce's ludicrous mistake. When Hawkins was brought in from outside, and, after proclaiminghis identity, denied ever being served in the original action, thereferee was but little inclined to listen to Lawyer Bunce, who nowcorrected his testimony and swore just as insistently that the realHawkins was the person to whom he had given the papers in the case. 

Here, then, was as pretty a trick as had ever been played upon anunsuspecting and well-meaning lawyer; and by it Gottlieb had sostrengthened our position that, very likely, the referee would havefound for our side even had not Hawkins taken it upon himself toswear the matter through. Moreover, the only person who could havedisproved the latter's testimony or given evidence that might havemilitated against its probability--to wit, Crookshank, his formerattorney--was dead and buried, and it seemed as if truth were buriedwith him. On the way back to our office I congratulated my partneron the Napoleonic strategy which he had displayed and a few dayslater a more substantial compliment followed, in the shape of anunqualified finding in our favor on the part of the referee. 

"Was ever thirty-five thousand dollars earned so easily!" laughedGottlieb over his cigar as we were dining at Delmonico's. 

"So long as Hawkins stays bought--yes, " I answered. 

"Don't be a death's head, Quib!" he retorted. "Why, even if heturned State's evidence, no one would believe him! Have anotherglass of this vintage--we can drink it every night now for a yearat Dillingham's expense!"

"Well, here's to you, Gottlieb!" I answered, filling my goblet withcreaming wine; "and here's to crime--whereby we live and move andhave our being!"

And we clinked our glasses and drained them with a laugh. 

I had now been a resident of New York for upward of twenty yearsand had acquired, as the junior member of the firm of Gottlieb &Quibble, an international reputation. It is true that my partnerand I felt it to be beneath our dignity to advertise in the newspapers--and, indeed, advertising in New York City was for us entirelyunnecessary--but we carried a card regularly in the English journalsand received many retainers from across the water; in fact, wecontrolled practically all the theatrical business in the city, drawing the contracts for the managers and being constantly engagedin litigations on their behalf. We had long since abandoned astrivial all my various profit-sharing schemes, and, with theexception of carrying on our pay-rolls many of the attendantsattached to the police and other criminal courts, had practicallyno "runners. " We did not need any. There was no big criminal casein which we were not retained for the defence and rarely a divorceaction of any notoriety where we did not appear for one of theparties. 

This matter of Hawkins's was the first in twenty years in which hehad ever deliberately faked an entire case! Yet, if ever therewas a safe opportunity to do so, this seemed the one, and I cannoteven now charge Gottlieb with recklessness in taking the chancesthat he did; but, as luck would have it, there were two factsconnected with the Dillingham annulment the significance of whichwe totally overlooked--one, that Bunce was not so much of a foolas he looked, and the other, that Mrs. Dillingham was a mother. 

Once, however, judgment had been entered to the effect that Mrs. Dillingham had never lawfully ceased to be Mrs. Hawkins, then thereal reason of our client's anxiety to be rid of his wife and herchild, a girl of six years, became apparent; for he instantlyannounced his engagement to a fashionable widow, who lacked moneyif not experience, and who needed the one as much as he had a super-abundance of the other. He made a fairly liberal allowance forhis child and its mother, and since this was paid monthly throughour office, I had an opportunity of making their acquaintance; andI confess that I had no sooner done so than I began to have a sortof regret for my own part in the transaction. For Mrs. Dillingham--Hawkins, or whatever she was--proved to be a rather sweet-facedyoung woman, with great, sad blue eyes and a winsomely childishinnocence of expression that concealed, as I afterward found out, a will of iron and a heart full of courage. 

She used to come and wait for Gottlieb or me to pay over her money, and while she waited she would sit there so helplessly, lookingwithal so lovely, that the clerks cannot be blamed for having talkedto her. Incidentally she extracted from the susceptible Cohenvarious trifles in the way of information which later proved highlyinconvenient. Yet she never asked me or my partner any questionsor showed the slightest resentment at the part we had played asher husband's attorneys in ruining her life. Sometimes she broughtthe little girl with her and I marvelled that Dillingham could havesacrificed such a charming little daughter so easily. 

Six months passed and the Dillingham scandal ceased to be a matterof public or even of private interest. Other affairs, equallyprofitable, engaged our attention, and the waiter, Hawkins, havingreceived a substantial honorarium from the firm's bank account, had passed completely out of our minds. I had that winter beengiving a series of dinners at my house to actor clients and theirmanagers, and these had proved conspicuously successful for thereason that my guests were of the sort who, after the wine hadbegun to flow, had no hesitation in entertaining the rest of thecompany by an exhibition of their talents. Occasionally, as partof the fun, I would do a bit of a turn myself by way of revivingold memories of the Cock and Spur and my Athenaeum days in Boston. 

It was on one of these festive occasions--not unlike, my readersmay recall, my famous translation from college during my banquetat the Cambridge Tavern--that Fate struck me my first severe blow. My guests were still sitting at table while one of the ladiesexecuted a fantastic dance amid the wine-glasses, when my butlertouched me upon the arm and whispered that Mr. Gottlieb was outsideand desired to see me on urgent business. Excusing myself, Ihurried out, greeting my partner rather impatiently, as I dislikedto be interrupted by business details in my hours of relaxation;but one sight of his weazened little hawk face sufficed to tell methat no trifling matter was at stake. He was in his day clothes, which were even more than ordinarily dishevelled, and his face, usually pale, was chalklike. 

"Quibble, " he cried in a rasping voice as soon as my man had gone, "our luck's turned! That woman has tricked us. She and Bunce wentdown to Crookshank's office and, under the pretext of looking forsome deed or release, went through his papers and turned up someletters from Hawkins in regard to the original divorce proceedings. They've got one in which he admits being served by Bunce in theAstor House and asks Crookshank to appear for him. They've gotanother, written after Dillingham had fixed him, telling Crookshankto put in no defence. Yesterday she and Bunce went before thegrand jury, who returned an indictment against Hawkins for perjury. Then she telegraphed him to come on to New York and meet her toarrange some money matters; and when he stepped off the train thisafternoon he was arrested and taken to police head-quarters. "

"My God!" I cried, turning quite faint. "What's to be done?"

"Get him out of the way as soon as possible!" answered Gottlieb, his lips trembling. "To-morrow morning he will be arraigned inthe General Sessions. They are going to ask for fifty thousanddollars bail. We've got to have it. It's the only thing thatstands between us and State prison, for they've got the goods onHawkins and unless we see him safe he'll turn on us and help themsend us up!"

"Have you seen him?" I gasped. 

"I've just come from head-quarters, " he answered. "The fool hadbeen drinking and had given up a lot of information already. SoI frightened him until he agreed to shut up. They trouble is wegave him too much money. He says now that unless we protect himand keep him out of State prison he will give up the whole game tothe district attorney. That would be fun, wouldn't it? The districtattorney wouldn't waste much time on Arthur P. Hawkins if he couldland Gottlieb & Quibble in jail for subornation of perjury, wouldhe--eh? We've got to scratch gravel--and quick too!"

"But where can we raise fifty thousand dollars?" I groanedhelplessly. 

"Dillingham, " he retorted without hesitation. "He's our only hope. He's in as bad as the rest of us. If we go we can pull him alongtoo. I understand that the woman is prepared to swear not onlythat Hawkins admitted to her that he was properly served, but thatshe told this to Dillingham, and that he and Hawkins talked thething over in her presence. Besides, Cohen confessed to me to-daythat she had pumped him all about Hawkins's coming over to New Yorkand signing papers; and, although he swears he didn't tell heranything in particular, yet I don't trust the idiot. No, Quib;it's bad business and we've got to get Hawkins out of the way atany cost. "

It was not until nearly three o'clock in the morning that I discoveredDillingham's whereabouts, which happened to be at the Fifth Avenuehouse of a fashionable friend, where he was playing draw poker. He greeted me in much the same inhospitable fashion that I hadaccorded to Gottlieb, but only a few words were needed to convincehim of the gravity of the case. I had never loathed the man morethan I did at that instant when, with a cigar stuffed in his fatface, he came out of the card-room, dressed in his white waistcoatand pearl studs, and with a half-drunken leer asked what I wanted. 

"I want fifty thousand dollars to keep you and me out of Stateprison!" I cried. 

He turned a sickly yellow and gave a sort of choking gasp. 

"Hawkins!" he muttered. "Damn him!"

Then Dillingham had a sort of fit, due no doubt partly to the factthat he had drunk more champagne than was good for him; for hetrembled with a kind of ague and then broke out in a sweat andblubbered, and uttered incoherent oaths, until I was half besidemyself lest he should keep it up all night and I should not getthe money from him. But at last he regained control of himselfand promised to borrow the fifty thousand dollars the first thingin the morning and to have it at my office at ten o'clock. Yet, as I bade him good night, he had another turn of terror and histeeth chattered in his head as he stammered out that he was a ruinedman, that he had cast off a good wife for a deceitful hussy whoonly wanted his money, that he had lost his child, that now hiscareer was over, and that, unless I stood by him, he would end hisdays in prison. This was hardly the sort of encouragement I wanted;and though his words brought the cold sweat out upon my back, Itold him pretty sharply that he had better pull himself togetherand not be any more of a fool than he could help, that all we neededwas enough money to whip Hawkins out of the way, and that if hewould "come up" with the needful we would look out for him. I lefthim a disgusting sight, sitting in a red plush armchair, with hisface in his hands, his hair streaking down across his forehead, moaning and mumbling to himself. 

Outside, the city slept the prenatal sleep of dawn. A pale greenishveil hung over the roofs, through which day must peer beforeawakening those who slept beneath. I had often noticed this greenishcolor in the sky, made doubtless by the flare of gas and electricityagainst the blue-black zenith, yet never before had I felt itsdepressing character. It was the green of jealousy, of disappointment, of envy, hatred, and malice and all uncharitableness! The citytrembled in its sleep and the throbbing of its mighty pulse beatevilly upon my ears with distant hostile rumblings. I was alonein it and in danger. Disaster and ruin were looking for me aroundthe corner. I was like a child, helpless and homeless. I couldnot call upon God, for I did not believe in Him. 

It came home to me, as I stood there in the night upon the openstreet, that there was not one soul among all the city's sleepingmillions who owed me aught but harm, and that even those who haddrunk the wine of my hospitality had done so more in fear than infriendship. I had no friends but those who were bound to me insome devil's bargain--no kith, no kin, nor the memory of a mother'slove. As I lingered there, like some outcast beast waiting forday to drive me to my lair, I envied, with a fierce hatred and witha bitter and passionate pity for myself, those to whom Fate hadbeen more kind and given home and wife and children, or at leastthe affection of their fellow men, and I envied the lads I hadknown in college who led clean lives and who had shunned me--theyknew not why--and the happy-go-lucky Quirk and his busy wife; andeven old Tuckerman Toddleham, in his dingy office in Barristers'Hall. 

CHAPTER IX

Daybreak found me still wandering in the streets, haunted by thefear that the police might already be upon my track and furious atthe thought that one foolish step should have changed me from aprosperous and powerful member of the bar into a fugitive. Oftenin earlier days I had pitied the wretches who would come slinkinginto our office after nightfall, empty their pockets of gold andnotes--taken often, no doubt, by force or fraud from others--andpour it out before us, begging for our aid to save them frompunishment. It seemed incredible to me that human beings shouldhave staked their liberty and often their lives for a few wretcheddollars. Outcasts, they skulked through existence, forced, oncethey had begun, to go on and on committing crimes--on the one handto live, and on the other to pay tribute to Gottlieb and myself, who alone stood between them and jail. How they had cringed tous. We were their masters, cracking the lash of blackmail acrosstheir shoulders and sharing equally, if invisibly, in their crimes!And how I had scorned them--fools, as they seemed to me, to takesuch desperate chances! Yet, as the sun rose, I now saw myself asone of the beings whom I had so despised. We were no longer theirmasters--they were our masters! Hawkins had us in his power. Healone could prevent us from donning prison stripes. 

Already the streets were beginning to stir. Wagons rumbled alongthe pavements. Streams of people emerged from the caverns of theeast and trudged westward across the city. I circled the squareand entered it from the lower side. My big brick mansion, withits stone trimmings--the home where I had held my revels andentertained my friends, where I had worked and slept--was but astone's throw away. I strained my eyes to detect any signs of thepolice; but the street was empty. Then, pulling my hat down uponmy head, I turned up my coat-collar and, glancing from side toside, hurried across the square and let myself in. 

The household still slept. The air was close and heavy with theperfume of roses and the reek of dead cigars. On the floor of theentrance hall lay a pair of woman's white gloves, palms upward. Beyond, through the open doors of the dining-room, I could see theuncleared table, littered over with half-empty bottles and glasses. An upset chair reclined as it had fallen. Last night I had beenan envied host; to-day I was an outcast. 

As I stood there, a shadow darkened the doorway and with a leap ofthe heart I jumped behind a portière. Then, as the shadow remainedand knowing that in any event I was trapped, I threw open the door. Gottlieb, with wild eyes peering out of a haggard face, stood beforeme. Without a moment's hesitation, he dodged inside. 

"Did you get it?" he almost shrieked. 

"Yes, " I answered faintly. "What are we to do?"

"For God's sake give me something to drink!" he cried. "I need it!"

I led him to the sideboard and filled two glasses with whiskey. 

"Here's to crime!" I muttered, with a bitter laugh. 

Gottlieb shot a fierce look at me and his hand shook so that Ithought he would drop the tumbler; but he poured the liquor downhis throat and threw himself into a chair. 

"That fellow has us by the throat!" he groaned. 

"We should have thought of that--" I began. 

"Stop!" he gasped. "You can hold a post-mortem later on. Theyhaven't got us yet--and, by God! we've a long start. Once let uswhip Hawkins out of the way and they're helpless! I must stay hereto fight the case, but you, Quib, must take this fellow wherethey'll never find him--Africa, Alaska, Europe--anywhere! If youcould drop him over a precipice or off an ocean liner--so much thebetter!"

For an instant we eyed each other keenly. Then I shook my head. 

"No, " said I. "If it came to that I'd rather go to jail. "

It was now nearly seven o'clock and I felt faint for something toeat; so I stumbled upstairs and awakened my butler, who stared atme stupidly when he saw me beside his bed in evening dress. WhenI rejoined Gottlieb I found him examining the morning paper, whicha boy had just brought to the front door. Across the front pagein double-leaded type was printed:

THE DILLINGHAM DIVORCE AGAIN

Arthur P. Hawkins Indicted for Perjury

Extraordinary Disclosures Expected

Two Prominent Criminal Attorneys Said to be Involved

"They've raised the hue and cry already!" muttered my partner, pointing to the paper. "Damn them! How ready they are to turn ona man! Think of all the stories I've given to these very papers!Stories worth thousands of dollars to 'em! And now--they're afterour hearts' blood!"

While we were waiting for our breakfast he outlined his plan. Wewere to get Hawkins out of town as soon as we had given bail forhim. Of course the railroads and ferries would be watched, but wecould manage somehow. I must take the fellow where nobody wouldfind him and keep him there. If he ever were brought back andconvicted he would turn on us like a snake. Only while he stillhoped to escape prison could we count on his co-operation. Meanwhilemy partner would remain in the city and try to upset the indictment. Anyhow, some one must stand guard over Dillingham; for, if he losthis nerve and endeavored to save himself by confessing his part inthe affair, we would be lost!

Gloomily we ate a few pieces of toast and swallowed our coffee. Then I hastily changed my clothes and accompanied Gottlieb to theTombs, to which Hawkins had been transferred the night before. Hewas brought down to us in the counsel-room, looking like a scaredand sickly ghost. What little spirit he had before had alreadyvanished. I have never seen a more wretched human creature. Hisone dread was of going to prison; and together we hastened toconvince him that his only avenue of escape lay through us. Wepointed out to him that so long as he stuck to the story we shouldprepare for him he had nothing to fear; and, as evidence of ourpower to protect him, we instanced the fact that we had alreadysecured fifty thousand dollars' cash bail for him. At this he tookmuch heart, and even whistled a bit and begged us for a drink, butwe slapped him on the back and told him that he could have anythinghe wanted once he was outside the Tombs--not before; so he gave usa cold, slimy hand and promised to do precisely as we wished. 

Ten-thirty came and we both walked across to Part One of the GeneralSessions, where for so many years we had been monarchs of all wesurveyed. A great throng filled the room and many reportersclustered around the tables by the rail, while at the head of along line of waiting prisoners stood the bedraggled Hawkins. Presently the judge came in and took his seat and the spectatorssurged forward so that the officers had difficulty in preservingorder. Somehow, it seemed almost as if we were being arraignedourselves--not appearing as counsel for another; but Gottliebpreserved his composure admirably and, when Hawkins's name wascalled, stepped forward, entered a plea of not guilty for him andgave bail. We had already deposited the money with the citychamberlain and Hawkins was immediately discharged, pending histrial for perjury; but the tremendous sum demanded as security andthe fact that it was immediately forthcoming for a prisoner wholooked as if he had not a cent in the world of his own, and whowas known to be a mere waiter in a restaurant, caused a sensationthroughout the court-room; and as we forced our way to the streetwe were accompanied by a multitude, who jeered at the defendantand occasionally took a fling at Gottlieb and myself. We still, however, were persons to be feared, and few dared venture beyondmaking suggestive allusions to our obvious desire to secure theimmediate liberty of our client. 

So far we had no reason to believe that the district attorney--aman of high integrity and unrelenting zeal in the discharge of hisofficial duties--had sought to tamper with Hawkins; but I instinctivelyfelt that, once he had an opportunity to offer the latter personalimmunity in return for a confession which would implicate Gottlieband myself all would be over. As my partner had said, there wasonly one thing to do--and that was to put it out of our client'spower to do us harm. The first step in this direction was to gethim hopelessly drunk, and this we successfully did in a back roomof our office. 

Both of us knew that a dozen pairs of eyes were watching the entranceof the old-fashioned building in which our rooms were located, andthat any attempt on our part to get Hawkins out of the city wouldresult in his immediate arrest. Once he were sent back to theTombs he would be out of our control. So, for three days, we kepthim--a foul, unwashed, maudlin thing--a practical prisoner, althoughfrom his condition quite unconscious of it. Day and night, turnand turn about, Gottlieb and I watched while he snored and gibbered, cursed and giggled; but the strain was getting too much for bothof us and we set ourselves at work to devise a way to spirit himaway. 

Our offices were situated in a block the other side of whichconsisted of tenement-houses. Investigation showed that it wouldbe possible to get over the roofs, walk nearly the length of theblock and gain access to one of the more distant tenements througha skylight. For the sum of fifty dollars we found an Italian fruit-dealer who was willing to hire himself, his rickety wagon, and hisspavined horse for our enterprise; and he agreed to carry Hawkinsconcealed under piles of produce to a point on Long Island, wherewe could take a ferry across to one of the Connecticut towns. 

The following night we arranged that a hack should be drawn upearly in the evening in front of the entrance to the office, andbags and boxes were brought out and piled upon the seat beside thedriver. We then half dragged, half lifted Hawkins up the stairsand on the roof by means of a shaky ladder and conducted him acrossthe leads to the scuttle of the tenement-house. At this juncture, by prearrangement, three of our clerks, one of whom somewhatresembled Hawkins in size and who was arrayed in the latter's coatand hat, rushed out of the office and climbed into the hack, whichat once set off at a furious gallop up Centre Street. CoincidentallyGottlieb and I escorted our still maudlin prisoner down the narrowstairs at the other end of the block and cajoled him into gettinginto a sack, which the Italian placed in the bottom of the cartand covered with greens. I now put on a disguise, consisting ofa laborer's overalls and tattered cap, while Gottlieb wheeled outa safety bicycle which had been carefully concealed in the basement. 

I had ten thousand dollars in the pocket of my ragged trousers anda forty-four-calibre revolver at my hip. Gottlieb drew me backinto the shadow and whispered harshly in my ear. 

"Quib, " said he, "this fellow must never come back!--do youunderstand? Once the district attorney gets hold of him, it's allup with us! It's Sing Sing for each of us--ten years of it! ForGod's sake, hire somebody to put him out of the way!--quietly. Many a man would take him off our hands for a thousand or so. "

I shuddered at the cold-blooded suggestion, yet I did not utterone word of refusal, and must have led Gottlieb to believe that Iwas of a mind with him, for he slapped me on the shoulder and bademe good luck. Good luck! Was ever a man of decent birth andeducation forced upon such an errand? The convoying of a drunkencriminal to--where? I knew not--somewhere whence he could notreturn. 

Thus I set forth into the night upon my bicycle, my money bulgingin my pocket, my pistol knocking against the seat at every turn ofthe wheel, my trousers catching and tearing in the pedals. At lastI crossed the bridge and turned into the wastes of Queens. Gas-houses, factories, and rotting buildings loomed black and weirdagainst the sky. I pedaled on and at last found myself upon acountry road. I dared not ask my way, but luckily I had stumbledupon the highway to Port Washington, whence there was a ferry tothe Connecticut shore. As I stole along in the darkness, my earcaught far ahead a voice roaring out a ribald song--and I knew thatthe time had come to take personal charge of my wretched client--the "old man of the sea" that my own stupidity had seated upon myshoulders. Soon I overtook them, the Italian stolidly driving hisweary horse and Hawkins sitting beside him with the sack wrappedaround his shoulders. I halted them, threw my bicycle in amongthe vegetables, and climbed up to where they sat. Hawkins gave agreat shout of laughter when he saw who it was and threw his armaround my neck, but I pushed him away and he nearly fell under thewheels. My gorge rose at him! Yet to him I was shackled as tightlyas ever a criminal was to his keeper!

The thought of the remainder of that night and of the ensuing threedays and nights sickens me even now. In the early dawn we crossedthe ferry with dozens of other produce-laden wagons and landed onthe opposite side of the Sound, where we caught a local train forHartford. I had made no arrangements for communicating withGottlieb, and was in utter ignorance of whether or not our escapehad been discovered. We sat in the smoking-car, Hawkins by thistime ill and peevish. The air was stifling, yet I could not, arrayed as I was or in the company of my client, go into the regularpassenger coach. At Hartford we changed for Springfield and Ipurchased a New York paper. There was nothing in it relating tothe case and I breathed more easily; but, once in Springfield, Iknew not which way to turn, and Hawkins by this time was crazy fordrink and refusing to go farther. I gave him enough liquor to keephim quiet and thrust him on a way train for Worcester. Already Ihad exhausted my small bills and when I tried to cash one for ahundred dollars the ticket agent in the station eyed me withsuspicion. 

That night we slept in a single bed, Hawkins and I, in a cheaplodging-house--that is, _he_ slept a sordid, drunken sleep, whileI lay tossing and cursing my fate until, burning with fever, I roseand drained part of the water in the pitcher. Yet, in the earlymorning hours there came to me the first ray of hope throughoutthat dreary space since I had left New York--the Quirks! TheQuirks! Twenty years had passed since I had heard from them. Theymight be dead and gone long ago without my knowing it; yet, werethey alive, I felt that one or other of them would hold out afriendly hand for auld lang syne. Before daybreak, I stole forth, hired a horse and buggy, asked the way to Methuen and, rousingHawkins, bundled him, whining and fretting, into it. 

Slowly we drove in the growing light through the country lanes Ihad known and loved so well as a lad--the farmland which was theonly friendly thing in my disconsolate boyhood. It was in theearly spring and the apple-trees along the stone walls by theroadside were showered with clustering blossoms. Dandelionssprinkled the fields. The cloud shadows slowly moved across richpastures of delicate green. A sun-warmed, perfume-laden breezeblew from the east, tinged with a keen edge that sent the bloodleaping in my temples. Tiny pools stood in the ruts glinting bluetoward the sky. The old horse plodded slowly on and the robinscalled among the elms that stood arching over white farm-houseswith blinds, some blue, some green. 

With a harrowing sense of helplessness, the realization of what Ihad thrown away of life swept over me. I turned from the soddencreature beside me in disgust. Hawkins had slumped back in hisseat, so that his head rested upon the hood, and had fallen soundasleep, with his mouth wide open. How I wished that I had thecourage to strangle him--and then it came to me that, after all, it was not he who had ruined me, but I who had ruined him!

About noontime we came to a landscape that seemed familiar to me, although more heavily wooded and with many more farms than Iremembered; and at a turn in the road I recognized a couple of hugeelms that marked the site of the homestead occupied in my boyhoodby the Quirks. There was the brook, the maple grove upon the hill, the old stile by the pasture, and the long stone wall beside theapple orchard, radiant with white. Yet the house seemed to havevanished. My heart sank, for somehow I had assumed that the Quirksmust still be living, just as they had always lived. And now, aswe drew near the turn, I saw that the place where the homesteadhad stood was empty, and all that remained was a heap of blackenedstone and brick thickly overgrown with brambles. 

Fifty yards farther down the road we came upon an old man sittingon the fence, smoking a pipe. He wore a tattered old brown felthat and overalls, and his long gray hair and beard were tangledand unkempt. I passed the time of day and he answered me civillyenough, although vacantly; and I saw that his eye had the red filmof the drunkard. When I asked him for Quirk, the schoolmaster, who used to live thereabout he gave a mirthless chuckle. 

"My name's Quirk, " said he; "but it's fifteen years since I taughtschool. How did you come to know of me?"

Could this be Quirk--this aged and decrepit old man! Somewherebeneath that mat of hair and beard, did there remain traces ofthose good-natured lineaments that were wont to set the boys in aroar? I scanned his face closely. The man was a stranger to myrecollection. 

"Do you remember me, Mr. Quirk?" I asked. 

He peered out at me under his bushy brows and slowly removed hispipe. 

"Not to my knowledge, " he answered. "What might be your name?"

"Quibble, " I returned--"Artemas Quibble. "

"Artemas Quibble!" he exclaimed in a faltering voice and feeblycrawled over to the buggy. 

I climbed down to meet him and extended my hand. 

"What has happened to you?" he stammered. "I thought you were agreat lawyer in New York. "

"I'm in a peck of trouble, " I answered. "I need all the friendsI've got. I hope you're still one of them?"

"Well, well!" he muttered. "And to think that you're Artie Quibble!And who may this be?" pointing to Hawkins. 

"I'll tell you all, " said I, "later on. For the present, he's afriend of mine who's travelling with me--more on business than onpleasure. "

Quirk's story was soon told. As I already expected, drink hadbecome his master. The school had fallen away, his wife had died, and in a fit of despondency he had--he said accidentally, but Ibelieve intentionally--overturned a lamp and set fire to the house. Now he lodged in a small hotel farther down the road, living fromhand to mouth, and doing a day's work here and there when chanceoffered. I gave him fifty dollars and bade him good-bye, for hehad no accommodations to offer us even had I been able to induceHawkins to remain there. Thus I realized that the only refuge Iever had from the outside world, the only real home I had everknown, was gone. I had nowhere to go, nowhere to deposit my evilload. 

We drove on for a space, and now Hawkins awoke and began to clamorfor food. Where was I taking him? he demanded to know. And whywas I togged out like a bricklayer? He announced that he had hadenough of this kind of travelling and insisted on going to a hoteland having a decent meal. I tried to reason with him and explainedthat it was only for a day or so, and that presumably we would goto Boston or some other city, where he should have everything thatmoney could buy. But he leered at me and said he had plenty ofpromises already; that we had promised him that he would get intono trouble if he signed his original affidavit, and that, unlesshe were treated like a gentleman, he would go back to New York andget other lawyers. He must have seen me turn white at his threat, for from that moment he held it over me, constantly repeating itand insinuating that I was not so anxious to save him as to savemyself, which, alas! I could not gainsay. 

Soon we came to a small town and here Hawkins flatly refused to goany farther. There was a hotel on the main street, and the fellowclambered out of the buggy and staggered into the bar and calledloudly for whiskey. There was nothing for it but to put up thehorse in the stable and do as my prisoner demanded. So we haddinner together, Hawkins talking in a loud, thick voice that madethe waitresses and other guests stare at him and me as if we weresome sort of outlandish folk; and after the meal was over he draggedme to the nearest clothier and ordered new ready-made suits forboth of us. He had now imbibed much more than was good for him;and when I took out my roll of bills to pay for what we had boughthe snatched it out of my hand and refused to give it back. For amoment I almost surrendered myself to despair. I had had no sleepfor two nights, I was overwhelmed with mortification and disgust, and here I was in a country store pranked out like a popinjay, thekeeper of a half-crazy wretch who made me dance to any tune hechose to pipe; but I pulled myself together and cajoled Hawkinsinto leaving the place and giving me back a small part of the money. 

There was a train just leaving for Boston and my companion insistedupon taking it, saying that he proposed to spend the money thatDillingham had so kindly furnished him with. I never knew how hediscovered the part Dillingham was playing in this strange drama;but if no one told him, he at any rate divined it somehow, and fromthis moment he assumed the lead and directed all our movements. It is true that I persuaded him to go to one of the smaller andless conspicuous hotels, but he at once sent for another tailor, ordered an elaborate meal for supper, with champagne, and procureda box at one of the theatres, whither I was obliged to escort him. Neither would he longer permit me to occupy the same room with him--precious privilege!--but engaged a palatial suite for himself, with a parlor, while I had a small and modest room farther downthe hall. In some respects this suited me well, however, since Iwas now able to induce him to have his meals served upstairs. YetI began to see the foolishness of thinking that we could elude thepolice should they set out to seek seriously for us, since, apartfrom changing our names, we were making no effort at disguisingourselves. 

The day after our arrival, Hawkins slept late and I slipped outabout ten o'clock and wandering aimlessly came to Barristers' Hall, where twenty years before old Tuckerman Toddleham had his office. The day was warm and humid, like that upon which so long ago I hadvisited the old lawyer when a student at Harvard and had receivedfrom him my sentence. Even as then, some birds were twitteringaround the stone window-ledges. An impulse that at the moment wasbeyond my control led me up the narrow, dingy stairs to the landingwhere the lawyer's office had been. A green-baize door, likelyenough the same one, still hung there--where the lawyer's officehad been. Naught about the room was altered. There were thebookcases, with their glass doors and green-silk curtains; thethreadbare carpet, the portrait of the Honorable Jeremiah Masonover the fireplace; the old mahogany desk; the little bronze paper-weight in the shape of a horse; the books, brown and faded withyears; and at the desk--I brushed my hand across my eyes--at thedesk sat old Tuckerman Toddleham himself!

For the first time in my entire existence, so far as I can nowremember, I was totally nonplussed and abashed. I could not havebeen more astonished had I walked into the family lot in the Salemcemetery and found my grandfather sitting on his own tombstone;but there the old lawyer surely was, as certainly as he had beenthere twenty years before; and the same sensations that I had alwaysexperienced as a child while in his presence now swept over me andmade me feel like a whipped school-boy. Not for the world wouldI have had him see me and be forced to answer his questions as tomy business in the city of Boston; so, holding my breath, I tiptoedout of the door, and the last vision I ever had of him was as hesat there absorbed in some legal problem, bending over his books, the sunlight flooding the mote-filled air of the dusty office, thelittle bronze horse standing before him on the desk and the branchesof the trees outside casting flickering shadows upon the walls andbookcases. Canny old man! He had never put his neck in a noose!I envied him his quiet life among his books and the well-deservedrespect and honor that the world accorded him. 

Ruminating in this strain, I threaded my way through the crowd inCourt Street, and was about to return to my hotel, when to my utterhorror I beheld Hawkins, in all his regalia, being marched downthe hill between two business-like-looking persons, who wereunmistakably officers of police. He walked dejectedly and had lostall his bravado. There was no blinking the fact that in my absencehe had managed somehow to stumble into the hands of the guardiansof the law and was now in process of being transported back to NewYork. 

For a moment my circulation stopped abruptly and a clammy moisturebroke out upon my back and forehead. Unostentatiously I slippedinto a cigar store and allowed the trio to pass me by. So the jigwas up! Back I must go, after my fruitless nightmare with thewretch, to consult with my partner as to what was now to be done. I reached the city late that evening, but not before I had read inthe evening papers a full account of the apprehension of thefugitive, including my own part in the escape; and it now appearedthat the police had been fully cognizant of all our doings, includingthe manner of our abduction of Hawkins from our office. They had, under the instructions of the district attorney, simply permittedus to carry out our plan in order to use the same as evidenceagainst us at the proper time, and had followed us every step ofthe way to Worcester and on our drive to Methuen. 

My heart almost failed me as I thought of how foolish I had beento undertake this desperate journey myself, instead of sending someone in my place for by so doing I had stamped myself as vitallyinterested in my client's escape. Fearful to go to my own home, lest I should find myself in the hands of the police, I spent thenight in a lodging-house on the water-front, wondering whetherHawkins had already made his confession to the district attorneyin return for a promise of immunity; for I well knew that such apromise would be forthcoming and that Hawkins was the last man inthe world to neglect the opportunity to save himself at our expense. 

Next morning I telephoned Gottlieb and met him by appointment ata hotel, where we had a heated colloquy, in which he seemed tothink that I was totally to blame for the failure of our attempt. He was hardly himself, so worn out was he with anxiety, not havingheard from me until he had read of Hawkins's apprehension in Boston;but, now that I was able to talk things over with him, we agreedthat any effort to spirit our client away would have been equallyunsuccessful, and that the one course remaining for us to pursuewas to put on as bold a front as possible and let the law take itscourse. It was equally useless for us to try to conceal our ownwhereabouts, for all our movements were undoubtedly watched; andthe best thing to do, it seemed to us, was to go as usual to ouroffice and to act as nearly as possible as if nothing had happened. 

We were not mistaken as to the intended course of the districtattorney; for, when we visited the Tombs for the purpose ofinterviewing Hawkins, we were informed by the warden that he hadobtained other counsel and that our services were no longer required. This was an indisputable indication that he had gone over to theenemy; and we at once began to take such steps as lay in our powerto prepare for our defence in case an indictment was found againstus. And now we were treated to a dose of the medicine we hadcustomarily administered to our own clients; for, when we tried tosecure counsel, we found that one and all insisted upon our payingover in advance even greater fees as retainers than those which wehad demanded in like cases. I had never taken the trouble to layby anything, since I had always had all the ready cash I needed. Gottlieb was in the same predicament, and in our distress we calledupon Dillingham to furnish us with the necessary amount; but, toour amazement and horror, our erstwhile client refused to see usor come to our office, and we definitely realized that he, too, had sought safety in confession and would be used by the prosecutionin its effort to place the crime of perjury at our door. 

From the moment of Hawkins's arrest the tide turned against us. There seemed to be a general understanding throughout the city thatthe district attorney intended to make an example in our case, andto show that it was quite as possible to convict a member of thebar as any one else. He certainly gave us no loophole of escape, for he secured every witness that by any possibility we might havecalled to our aid, and even descended upon our office with a search-warrant in his effort to secure evidence against us. Luckily, however, Gottlieb and I had made a practice of keeping no papersand had carefully burned everything relating to the Dillingham casebefore I had left the city. 

The press preserved a singular and ominous silence in regard tous, which lasted until one morning when a couple of officers appearedwith bench-warrants for our arrest. We had already made arrangementsfor bail in the largest amount and had secured the services of theablest criminal attorneys we knew, so that we were speedily released;but, with the return of our indictments charging us with suborningthe testimony of Hawkins, the papers began a regular crusade againstus. The evening edition carried spectacular front-page storiesrecounting my flight to Boston, the entire history of the Dillinghamdivorce, biographies of both Gottlieb and myself, and anecdotes ofcases in which we had appeared and notorious criminals whom we haddefended. And in all this storm of abuse and incrimination whichnow burst over our heads not a single world appeared in mitigationof our alleged offence. 

It seemed as if the entire city had determined to wreak vengeanceupon us for all the misdeeds of the entire criminal bar. Even ourold clients, and the police and court officers who had drawn payfrom us, seemed to rejoice in our downfall. Every man's hand wasagainst us. The hue and cry had been raised and we were to beharried out of town and into prison. At every turn we were forcedto pay out large sums to secure the slightest assistance; our clerksand employees refused longer to work for us, and groups of loiterersgathered about the office and pointed to the windows. Our livesbecame a veritable hell, and I longed for the time when the anxietyshould be over and I should know whether the public clamor for avictim were to be satisfied. 

Gottlieb and the lawyers fought stubbornly every inch of the defence. First, they attacked the validity of the proceedings, entereddemurrers, and made motions to dismiss the indictments. Thesematters took a month or two to decide. Then came motions for achange of venue, appeals from the decisions against us to theAppellate Division, and other technical delays; so that four monthspassed before, at last, we were forced to go to trial. By thistime my health had suffered; and when I looked at myself in theglass I was shocked to find how gaunt and hollow-cheeked I hadgrown. My hair, which had up to this time been dark brown, had ina brief space turned quite gray over my ears, and whatever of goodlooks I had ever possessed had vanished utterly. Gottlieb, too, had altered from a jovial, sleek-looking fellow into a nervous, worried, ratlike little man. My creditors pressed me for theirmoney and I was forced to close my house and live at a small hotel. The misery of those days is something I do not care to recall. Wewere both of us stripped, as it were, of everything at once--money, friends, health, and position; for we were the jest and laughing-stock of the very criminals who had before our downfall been ourclients and crowded our office in their eagerness to secure ourerstwhile powerful assistance. Our day was over!

It was useless to try to escape from the meshes of the net drawnso tightly around us. Even if we could have forfeited our heavybail--which would have been an impossibility, owing to the watchfulnessof our bondsman--we could never have eluded the detectives who nowdogged our footsteps. We were marked men. Everywhere we werepointed out and made the objects of comment and half-concealedabuse. The final straw was when the district attorney, in hisanxiety lest we should slip through his fingers, caused our re-arrest on a trumped-up charge that we were planning to leave thecity, and we were thrown into the Tombs, being unable to securethe increased bail which he demanded. Here we had the pleasure ofhaving Hawkins leer down at us from the tier of cells above, andhere we suffered the torments of the damned at the hands of ourfellow prisoners, who, to a man, made it their daily business andpleasure to render our lives miserable. Gottlieb wasted away toa mere shadow and I became seriously ill from the suffocating heatand loathsome food, for it was now midsummer and the Tombs wascrowded with prisoners waiting until the courts should open in theautumn to be tried. 

We were called to the bar together--Gottlieb and I--to answer tothe charge against us in the very court-room where my partner hadwon so many forensic victories and secured the acquittal of so manyclients more fortunate than he. From the outset of the caseeverything went against us; and it seemed as if judge, prosecutor, and jury were united in a conspiracy to deprive us of our rightsand to railroad us to prison. Even when impaneling the jury, Iwas amazed to find the prejudice against criminal lawyers in generaland ourselves in particular; for almost every other talesman sworethat he was so fixed in his opinion as to our guilt that it wouldbe impossible to give us a fair trial. 

At last, however, after several days a jury of twelve hard-facedcitizens was sworn who asserted that they had no bias against usand could give us a fair trial and the benefit of every reasonabledoubt. Fair trial, indeed! We were convicted before the firstwitness was sworn! Convicted by the press, the public, and theatmosphere that had been stirred up against us during the precedingmonths. And yet, one satisfaction remained to me, and that wasthe sight of Hawkins and Dillingham on the grill under the cross-examination of our attorneys. Dillingham particularly was a pitiableobject, shaking and sweating upon the witness chair, and forced toadmit that he had paid Gottlieb and me thirty-five thousand dollarsto get him an annulment so that he could marry the woman with whomhe was now living. The court-room was jammed to the doors with acurious crowd, anxious to see Gottlieb and me on trial and to learnthe nature of the evidence against us; and when our client leftthe stand--a pitiful, wilted human creature--and crawled out ofthe room, a jeering throng followed him downstairs and out intothe street. 

The actual giving of evidence occupied but two days, the chiefwitness next to Hawkins being the clerk who swore the latter tohis affidavit in my office. This treacherous rascal not onlytestified that Hawkins took his oath to the contents of the paper, but at the same time had told me that it was false. The farce wenton, a mere formal giving of testimony, until at length the districtattorney announced that he had no more evidence to offer. 

"You may proceed with the defence, " said the judge, turning to ourcounsel. 

I looked at Gottlieb and Gottlieb looked at me. The trial hadclosed so suddenly that we were taken quite unawares and left whollyundetermined what to do. We had practically no evidence to offeron our behalf except our own denials of the testimony against us;and if once either of us took the stand we should open the door toa cross-examination at the hands of the district attorney of ourentire lives. For this cross-examination he had been preparingfor months; and I well knew that there was not a single shadytransaction in which we had participated, not one attempt atblackmail, not a crooked defence that we had interposed that hehad not investigated and stood prepared to question us about indetail. 

"What shall we do?" whispered Gottlieb nervously. "Do you want totake the stand?"

"How can we?" I asked petulantly. "If we did we should be convicted--not for this but for every other thing we ever did in our lives. Let's take a chance and go to the jury on the case as it stands. "

After consulting with our counsel, the latter agreed that this wasthe best course to pursue; and so, rising, he informed the courtthat in his opinion no case had been made out against us and thatwe should, therefore, interpose no defence. This announcementcaused a great stir in the court-room, and I could see by the facesof the jury that it was all up with us. I had already surrenderedall hope of an acquittal and I looked upon the verdict of the juryas a mere formality. 

"Proceed, then, with the summing up, " ordered the judge. "I wishthe jury to take this case and finish it to-night. "

So, with that, our counsel began his argument in our behalf--a lameand halting effort it seemed to me, for all that we had paid himtwenty-five thousand dollars for his services--pointing out howneither Dillingham nor Hawkins was worthy of belief, and how thecase against us rested entirely upon their testimony and upon thatof the clerk, who was an insignificant and unimportant witnessinjected simply for the sake of apparent corroboration. Faugh!I have heard Gottlieb make a better address to the jury a thousandtimes, and yet this man was supposed to be one of the best! Somehowthroughout the trial he had seemed to me to be ill at ease and sickof his job, a mere puppet in the mummery going on about us; yet wehad no choice but to let him continue his ill-concealed plea formercy and his wretched rhetoric, until the judge stopped him andsaid that his time was up. 

When the district attorney arose and the jury turned to him withuplifted faces, then, for the first time, I realized the realattitude of the community toward us; for in scathing terms hedenounced us both as men not merely who defended criminals but who, in fact, created them; as plotters against the administration ofjustice; as arch-crooks, who lived off the proceeds of crimes whichwe devised and planned for others to execute. It was false andunfair; but the jury believed him--I could well see that. 

"These men have made a fat living for nearly a generation in thiscity by blackmail, bribery, and perjury. They have made a businessof ruining homes, reputations, and the lives of others. They havedirected the operations of organized bands of criminals. They arethe Fagins of the city of New York. Once the poor and defencelesshave fallen into their power, they have extorted tribute from themand turned them into the paths of crime. Better that one of themshould be convicted than a thousand of the miserable wretchesordinarily brought to the bar of justice!"

And in this strain he went on until he had bared Gottlieb and myselfto our very souls. When he concluded there was a ripple of applausefrom the spectators that the court officers made little attempt tosubdue; and the judge began his charge, which lasted but a fewminutes. What he said was fair enough, and I had no mind to quarrelwith him, although our counsel took many exceptions. The juryretired and my partner and I were led downstairs into the prisonpen. It was crowded with miserable creatures waiting to be tried--negroes and Sicilians, thieves and burglars--who took keen delightin jostling us and foretelling what long sentences we were toreceive. One negro kicked me in the shins and cursed me for beinga shyster, and when I protested to the keeper he only laughed at me. 

About half an hour later an officer came to the head of the stairsand shouted down:

"Bring up Gottlieb and Quibble!"

Our keeper unlocked the pen and, followed by the execrations ofour associates, we stumbled up the stairs and into the court-room. Slowly we marched around to the bar, while every eye was fixed uponus. The jury was already back in the box and standing to rendertheir decision. The clerk rapped for order and turned to theforeman. 

"Gentlemen of the jury, have you agreed upon a verdict?" he intoned. 

"We have, " answered the foreman unhesitatingly. 

"How say you, do you find the defendants guilty or not guilty?"

"We find both of them guilty!" replied the foreman. 

A slight shiver passed through Gottlieb's little body and for amoment the blood sang in my ears. No man can receive a verdict ofguilty unperturbed, no matter how confidently expected. The crowdmurmured their approval and the judge rapped for silence. 

"Are you ready for sentence?" asked the judge. 

We nodded. It was useless to prolong the agony. 

"I have nothing to say to you, " remarked the judge, "in additionto what the district attorney has said. He has fully expressed myown sentiments in this case. I regard you as vampires, suckingthe blood of the weak, helpless, and criminal. Mercy would be outof place if extended toward you. I sentence you both to the fulllimit which the law allows--ten years in State's prison at hardlabor. "

An officer clapped us upon the back, faced us round toward the rearof the court-room, and pushed us toward the door leading to theprison pen, while another slipped a handcuff on my right wrist andsnapped its mate on Gottlieb's left. 

"Get on there, " he growled, "where you belong!"

The crowds strained to get a look at us as, with averted faces, wetrudged toward the door leading to the prison pen. Our lawyershad already hastened away to avoid any reflected ignominy thatmight attach to them. The jurymen were shaking hands with thedistrict attorney. 

"Adjourn court!" I heard the judge remark. 

With a whoop, the spectators in the court-room crowded upon ourheels and surged up to the grating before the door. 

"There's Gottlieb!" cried one. "The little fellow!"

"And that's Quibble--the pale chap with the thin face!" saidanother. 

"Damn you! Get out of the way!" I shouted threateningly. 

"There go the shysters!" retorted the crowd. "Sing Sing's the bestplace for them!"

The keeper opened the door and motioned back the spectators. Istaggered through, shackled to my partner and dragging him alongwith me. As the door clanged to I heard some one say:

"There goes the last of the firm of Gottlieb & Quibble!"