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 assault, 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 principal, 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 Canal 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 assured 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.’

“‘But I am not mistaken,’ persisted Holcomb. ‘You must be bewitched! I don’t understand.’

“‘Well, don’t try to, old man. I’d do anything for you—you know, but I can’t do this.’

“‘I don’t want you to do anything for me!’ interrupted Holcomb, indignantly. ‘I only want you to enforce the law as you find it, and not——’

“He paused, feeling that he might say too much.

“‘You’ll have to excuse me,’ murmured the Sheriff, impatiently, ‘I’d do anything to oblige, but really, this time——’

“Holcomb gazed at the man in silence for a moment—nodding his head in comprehending pity and contempt, and left the room without another word.”

—“When did you say your friend dreamed all this rot?”

It was Hartruff who roughly interrupted the story.

At the sound of his voice Norris turned his gaze toward the window, and continued looking out of it while he answered slowly:

“Why do you think he dreamed it? Have you heard the rest of the story?”

“No—but anyone can see what’s coming.”

“Is it such an every-day affair with you? So much the less reason for thinking Holcomb dreamed it.”

Hartruff laughed contemptuously.

“O, well, never mind—go on with your tarradiddle.”

“You will pardon me then for telling what must, of course, be commonplace to a member of the General Committee?”

“O, go to the devil!”

“You forget yourself, my dear Hartruff. Why direct me to headquarters, when his deputies are members of decent down-town clubs?”

“Come, come, gentlemen,” interposed Lawton, “this is going too far.”

“Precisely what I just remarked to Hartruff,” drawled Norris.

Hartruff saw the smile on the faces of the company, and rose from his seat.

“I will leave this gentleman to continue his pipe-dreaming, advising him, however, that it is a dangerous practice.”

“Is that a warning, Hartruff? If so, write it out, please. Those warnings always look so much fiercer in mis-spelled words signed with crosses. But I forget, your Organisation never puts itself on paper.”

“No—but it puts itself on record!”

“Makes its mark, you mean? Well, that’s merely a defect of early education, easily overcome with men like you to guide its fist.”

“Take care you don’t feel the weight of it.”

“My dear Hartruff, haven’t they taught you yet to keep your teeth on your temper? Really, you’ll never rise from the ranks unless you learn to smile and smile and,—well—you’d better learn to smile.”

Hartruff turned on his heel, strode to the door and slammed it behind him.

“When Holcomb left the Sheriff,” continued Norris calmly, “he promptly sent for his client Barney McCarren and explained the entire situation to him. McCarren expressed no surprise, but when Holcomb announced his intention of bringing mandamus proceedings to compel the Sheriff to give the required certificates, Barney laid a protesting hand on his counsel’s arm.

“‘Shure ’tis no use, Counsellor,’ he said. ‘I was afraid you couldn’t do anything, but I knew if you couldn’t, nobody could.’

“‘What do you mean by its being “no use”—and why should you “be afraid”? I’m going to get out papers this instant and show those fellows up.’

“‘Please don’t do it, Sir. At least not until I come again.’

“‘For goodness’ sake, why not, man? It shan’t cost you a cent.’

“‘It isn’t that, Sir. But—well—I shouldn’t have troubled you—I might have known——’

“‘Might have known what?’

“‘That they’d lay for me.’

“‘Why?’

“‘For not attending meetings at the Club.’

“‘What Club?’

“‘The District Club.’

“Then it came out, bit by bit, that McCarren had been a ‘regular’ in the Organisation and a member of the District Club. During the last year, however, he had wearied of the proceedings and had absented himself from the meetings. At the last election he hadn’t voted. The District Leader had spoken to him once jokingly about his absence from the meetings, and once, not jokingly, about his absence from the polls.—‘I knew they had it up for me,’ concluded McCarren resignedly.

“‘Well, don’t you let them frighten you, Barney. I’ll soon show them they can’t play with the law.’

“‘You mustn’t do it, Sir. You really mustn’t do it.’

“Holcomb argued and expostulated at length. He explained to his client that the Courts would not permit such violations of the law, and that the legal proceedings would be free of cost. He showed him that prompt action would not only gain him his rights, but would make them respected in future. He urged his personal and professional interest in the matter and begged his client to take action. But all in vain. McCarren knew he’d win the lawsuit—but there were his oyster-stands for which licenses were necessary. He’d like to stand up for his rights—but he wanted his children to get into the schools next Fall. He knew how Mr. Holcomb felt about the matter—but it helped out for his wife to continue as janitoress of the tenement where they lived.—In a word there were a hundred points where the Powers could and would reach him. He couldn’t afford it!

“Holcomb looked hopelessly at his client, and seeing the disappointment in his face, McCarren tried to soften the effect of his decision.

“‘Wait—just wait a few days, Sir. Then maybe I’ll come and see you about it again.’

“At the end of a week he came.

“‘Will you take up that matter again, Mr. Holcomb?’ he said, ‘Try it once more just as though’—he hesitated a moment—‘just as though I hadn’t asked you before.’

“Holcomb ‘took it up again’ with the same papers he had prepared the first time, and called on the Sheriff’s deputy.

“‘I want a receipt for your fees in this case,’ he said, laying the papers before the official and placing a fifty-cent piece on his desk.

“The man read the papers slowly, thoughtfully inserted the date and blotted the ink. Then he signed the Sheriff’s name by his own and handed the papers to Holcomb.

“‘There ain’t no fees in this case,’ he said, as he pushed the fifty-cent piece toward the lawyer.

“‘I think you are mistaken. There is the statutory fee on ‘entering execution.’’

“’There weren’t nothing done in this case.’

“‘No?’

“‘No.’

“‘Thank you.’

“Holcomb entered the proper order and returned to his client.

“‘How did you do it, Barney?’ he asked.

“‘How did I do it, Sir?’

“‘Yes.’

“‘I didn’t do anything.’

“‘But why was it matters went so smoothly to-day? You must have used some influence.’

“‘No, Sir,—that is—well,—I think the Leader saw me at Tuesday’s meeting, Sir.’”

Young Hudson was the first to break the silence which followed Norris’ recital.

“I’ve always said,” he began, “that some of the most annoying things in practice come from the obstinacy of clients. Now I had a case——”

“If a man wants to get blackmailed,” interrupted Harlow, “there’s no law in the land to prevent or protect him.”

“I guess Holcomb put on too much ‘side’ with that deputy,” commented Truslow. “Those fellows are easy enough to handle if you only go about it in the right way. Now I had occasion one time to need——”

“I don’t believe any Sheriff would make such a break as to call down a deputy without inquiring about the inside facts,” interrupted Patton. “You take my word for it, Norris, there’s something wrong with that story.”

Norris looked straight at the speaker.

“You’re right,” he answered, “there is something wrong with that story.”

“I knew there was. What?”

“The dates and the names. It happened yesterday and I was the lawyer. I told it to you men because you’re Members of the Bar, interested in the administration of justice and the maintenance of law. I’m glad I did so, if only to learn we’re so accustomed to such things nowadays that we see nothing in them but the obstinacy of clients and the need of jollying petty officials. Isn’t it a pretty commentary that the only doubt cast upon the truth of this story is that the Sheriff should have failed to inform himself of the conspiracy? Such things are going on every day and we wink at them if we don’t actually aid and abet them to facilitate our private business. A fearful tyranny sways this whole city, clutching or shadowing the tenements, brutalising the prisons, frustrating the laws—wasting the treasury—corrupting the courts—and we not only suffer it, but we tolerate the men of education who associate themselves with such work—allow them to be members of our clubs and degrade ourselves until——”

“Say—old man—hire a hall for next Tuesday evening and I’ll take a ticket. Honest I will. But I’ve got to leave you now and get back to work.”

Lawton rose and smiled good-naturedly at Norris, whose crimsoned face bespoke repentance of his sudden outburst.

The other members followed Lawton’s example, and soon there was no one left in the room except Norris and “Silent” Bancroft.

For some moments neither man spoke. Then Bancroft rose and rolling his cigar between his fingers thoughtfully studied its glowing ashes.

“Say, Norris,” he began slowly, “do you—do you attend primaries?”

“Er—no.”

“Um,—I thought not,” remarked the old gentleman as he walked toward the door.