The Case and Exceptions Part 6

"I think it only right to say to your Honour that I shall not interpose any defence in this action. The Milling Companies made an a.s.signment last night, and I only represent the a.s.signee. The gentleman will, of course, take our default, but I should hardly think he would occupy the whole day."

Holden stared silently at the speaker. The familiar scene darkened, faded, disappeared and flared up in a new light completely transforming it--a strange room with strange people--a stage setting in the white unmasking light of day.--A mocking face leered at him from a raised dais--mocking figures elbowed him with impatient scorn--mocking fingers pointed at him with derisive joy--fat clammy hands touched his breast and pushed him from the rail over which he glared with the most desperate hatred known to the world--the hatred of a man against mankind.

Then someone burst out laughing.

"What does he mean, Holden?"

Grafton's voice sounded a mile away, but the words of Belden, Coates'

clerk, were clear enough as he whispered in Holden's ear:

"Wasn't it great? Kept you all off for over three years without a ghost of a defence! Our people only wanted time to get things fixed and we got it for them all right enough, I guess. Give you a dime for your judgment! I tell you----"

But Holden suddenly struck Belden across the mouth and was promptly adjudged guilty of contempt of Court.--Of which the payment of his fine did not purge him, an order of the Court to the contrary notwithstanding.

A CONCLUSION OF LAW.

This story will not be understood by half the people who read it and the other half will not believe it, so it should be perfectly innocuous.

Hartruff, it is true, took offence when Norris told it in his presence,--but trust Norris for picking out the hundredth man. He has about as much tact as Hartruff has conscience, so they are admirably adapted for mutual misunderstanding.

They encountered in the smoking-room of the Equity Club after lunch, where the usual number of lawyers were gathered to bore one another with dissertations on their respective cases. One can sometimes obtain useful information by listening to a good deal of tiresome boasting, but the real reward for enduring long blasts of someone else's horn is, of course, the privilege of blowing your own. Norris, however, cared nothing for performances of this kind, and the first professional toot was, as a rule, the signal for his departure.

The man who doesn't boast is apt to be popular, but the man who won't listen to boasting is invariably disliked. Norris was not popular, and the loudest performers hinted that he hadn't any practice to talk about.

What induced him to depart from his usual custom on this particular occasion I do not know, unless, as I have said, it was his fatal genius for picking out the hundredth man.

Groton had been discoursing for twenty minutes on his triumphant progress through a case with which all his hearers were supposed to be familiar--for Groton thinks a breathless world watches his career--when he happened to mention somebody as being of "no political importance."

"There isn't any such person," interrupted Norris.

Groton stopped and looked at the speaker in surprise.

"I didn't mean to interrupt you, Groton," continued Norris, "I've a bad habit of thinking aloud. Go on with what you were saying."

Groton resumed his recital, and when at last his story reached the Court of Appeals and the final discomforture of all his opponents he turned indulgently to Norris.

"And now tell us, Norris, why you say there is no one politically unimportant."

"I was thinking of an experience Jack Holcomb had a few years ago----"

"Yes?"

"You remember Jack Holcomb--don't you? No? Well, he practised here for many years. He wasn't much of a lawyer, but he had the faculty of making his clients believe he was, which is quite as effective. Barney McCarren was introduced to him by some real-estate broker, and though any lawyer could have accomplished what Holcomb did for McCarren, yet such was his way of doing it that the man swore by him ever afterward.

"Barney McCarren was the proprietor of two or three little oyster-stands in the lower part of the City. As may be imagined he was not a person of any great wealth. He was of so little prominence in the down-town ward where he had lived all his life, that even his immediate neighbours only knew him as a quiet, self-supporting man, who devoted himself to his family and interfered with no one.

"Well, McCarren came to Holcomb one day some years ago and said that a judgment had been entered against him by the District Attorney's office on a forfeited bail bond. It appeared that one of his neighbours had been arrested for a.s.sault, and Barney, having a small piece of real estate, became bail for him. When the case was called for trial, however, the prisoner failed to appear, and consequently McCarren's small property was in peril. High and low he searched for his princ.i.p.al, but a month elapsed before Barney chanced upon the fellow. They saw one another at the same moment, and instantly a chase began, which lasted until the fugitive tripped on the Ca.n.a.l Street car tracks and McCarren fell on top of him and hauled him to the nearest police station. A little later the man was put on trial and acquitted, and at that stage of the proceedings Barney sought Holcomb's aid. The matter was, of course, a very simple one, and Holcomb a.s.sured his client he would have the property cleared of the judgment forthwith. To this end he prepared the proper papers, which, as you know, include a receipt from the Sheriff showing payment of all the fees of that official.

"Holcomb therefore looked up the matter in the Code and found the proper fee was fifty cents. Then he went to the Deputy in charge of the case and presented the certificate for signature, at the same time tendering the statutory amount. The man read through the papers and then pointed to the money Holcomb had placed on the table.

"'What's that for?' he asked insolently.

"'It's your fee,' explained Holcomb.

"'It ain't _my_ fee.'

"'Well, what is your charge then?'

"'Fifty dollars, I guess--about fifty dollars.'

"'You are very much mistaken. Here is the section regulating the matter.'

"'Aw, what do I care about the statue?--The fee's fifty plunks I tell yer!'

"'And I tell you, my friend, I will not pay it!' answered Holcomb, growing angry at the man's insolent manner. 'I will pay you half a dollar and not one cent more.'

"'Then yer don't get the certif. See?'

"'I'll see that I get it at once and teach you a lesson at the same time!'

"Holcomb swung angrily out of the room and made straight for the Sheriff's private office. He knew the Sheriff well, and handing his card to the door-keeper was immediately ushered into the room, where he reported the actions of the Deputy. The Sheriff was indignant and rang the bell sharply.

"'Send Mulqueen to me at once.'

"Mulqueen reported immediately and as soon as he had entered the room and closed the door the Sheriff turned on him angrily.

"'What does this mean, Mulqueen? Here is Mr. Holcomb, who says you demand $50 for a matter covered by a fifty-cent charge. You must be crazy, man! What do you mean by it?'

"'Fifty dollars is the fee--Sheriff,' answered the man sullenly.

"'It is not, Sir! I have looked at the Code, which Mr. Holcomb says he showed you. Make out the certificate instantly, and I'll take up your case later.'

"'Can I speak to you for a moment--Sheriff?' asked the Deputy.

"'Yes--go ahead,' snapped the official.

"Holcomb moved to the window to be out of hearing, and the man shuffling up to the desk whispered a few words in the Sheriff's ear. When the lawyer looked into the room again the Deputy had disappeared and the Sheriff was gazing at the pattern of the rug under his desk.

"'I'm awfully sorry, Holcomb,' he began, without looking at his visitor, 'but I find--but the fact is,--the Deputy is quite right. The fee is--is fifty dollars.'

"Holcomb stared at the official in amazement.

"'The Deputy right!' he exclaimed after a pause. 'Why, what's the matter with you, Townly? Here's the law--you just quoted it yourself!'

"'I know, I know,' muttered the Sheriff, turning his head and gazing out of the window, 'but I was mistaken--I find I was mistaken.'