One morning Keith was sitting in his office cogitating these things.
His door opened and a meek, mild little wisp of a man sidled in. He
held his hat in his hand, revealing clearly sandy hair and a narrow
forehead. His eyebrows and lashes were sandy, his eyes pale blue, his
mouth weak but obstinate. On invitation he seated himself on the edge
of the chair, and laid his hat carefully beside him on the floor.
"I am Dr. Jacob Jones," he said, blinking at Keith. "You have heard of
me?"
"I am afraid I have not," said Keith pleasantly.
The little man sighed.
"I have held the City Hospital contract for three years," he explained,
"and they owe me a lot of money. I thought you might collect some of
it."
"I think if you'd put in a claim through the usual channels you'd
receive your dues," advised Keith, somewhat puzzled. He had not heard
that the city was refusing to pay legitimate claims.
"I've done that, and they've given me these," said Doctor Jones,
handing Keith a bundle of papers.
Keith glanced at them.
"This is 'scrip,'" he said. "It's perfectly good. When the city is
without current funds it issues this scrip, bearing interest at 3 per
cent. a month. It's all right."
"Yes, I know," said the little man ineffectually, "but I don't want
scrip."
Keith ran it over. It amounted to something like eleven thousand
dollars.
"What do you want done about it?" he asked,
"I want you to collect the money for me."
But Keith, had recollected something.
"Just wait a minute, please," he begged, and darted across the hall to
a friend's office, returning after a moment with a file of legislative
reports. "I thought I'd heard something about it; here it is. The State
Legislature has voted an issue of 10 per cent. bonds to take up the
scrip."
"I don't understand," said Doctor Jones.
"Why, you take your scrip to the proper official and exchange it for an
equal value of State bonds."
"But what good does that do me?" cried Jones excitedly. "It doesn't get
me my money. They don't guarantee I can sell the bonds at par, do they?
And answer me this: isn't it just a scheme to cheat me of my interest?
As I understand it, instead of 3 per cent. a month I'm to get 10 per
cent. a year?"
"That's the effect," corroborated Keith.
"Well, I don't want bonds, I want money, as is my due."
"Wait a minute," said Keith. He read the report again slowly. "This
says that holders of scrip _may_ exchange, for bonds; it does not say
they _must_ exchange," he said finally. "If that interpretation is made
of the law, suit and judgment would lie against the city. Do you want
to try that?"
"Of course I want to try it!" cried Jones.
"Well, bring me your contract and vouchers, and any other papers to do
with the case, and I'll see what can be done."
"I have them right here," said Doctor Jones.
This, as Keith's first case, interested him more than its intrinsic
worth warranted. It amused him to bring all his powers to bear,
fighting strongly for the technical point, and finally establishing it
in court. In spite of the evident intention of the Legislature that
city scrip should be retired in favour of bonds, it was ruled that the
word _may_ in place of the word _must_ practically nullified that
intention. Judgment was obtained against the city for eleven thousand
dollars, and the sheriff was formally instructed to sell certain
water-front lots in order to satisfy that judgment. The sale was duly
advertised in the papers.
Next morning, after the first insertion of this advertisement, Keith
had three more callers. These were men of importance: namely, John
Geary, the first postmaster and last _alcalde_ of the new city; William
Hooper, and James King of William, at that time still a banker. These
were grave, solid, and weighty citizens, plainly dressed, earnest, and
forceful. They responded politely but formally to Keith's salute, and
seated themselves.
"You were, I understand, counsel for Doctor Jones in obtaining judgment
on the hospital scrip?" inquired Geary.
"That is correct," acknowledged Keith.
"We have called to inform you of a fact that perhaps escaped your
notice: namely, that these gentlemen and myself have been appointed by
the Legislature as commissioners to manage the funded debt of the city;
that, for that purpose, title of all city lands has been put in our
hands."
"No, I did not know that," said Keith.
"Therefore, you see," went on Geary, "the sheriff cannot pass title to
any lots that might be sold to satisfy Doctor Jones's judgment."
Keith pondered, his alert mind seizing with avidity on this new and
interesting situation.
"No, I cannot quite see that," he said at last; "the actual title is in
the city. It owns its property. You gentlemen do not claim to own it,
as individuals. You have delegated to you the power to pass title, just
as the sheriff and one or two others have that power; but you have not
the _sole_ power."
"We have advice that title conveyed under this judgment will be
invalid."
"That is a matter for the courts to settle."
"The courts----" began Hooper explosively, but Geary overrode him.
"If all the creditors of the city were to adopt the course pursued by
Doctor Jones, the city would soon be bankrupt of resources."
"That is true," agreed Keith.
"Then cannot I appeal to your sense of civic patriotism?"
"Gentlemen," replied Keith, "you seem to forget that in this matter I
am not acting for myself, but for a client. If it were my affair, I
might feel inclined to discuss the matter with you more in detail. But
I am only an agent."
"But----" interrupted Hooper again.
"That is quite true," interjected James King of William.
"Well, we shall see your client," went on Geary, "But I might state
that on the side of his own best interests he would do well to go slow.
There is at least a considerable doubt as to the legality of this sale.
It is unlikely that people will care to bid."
After some further polite conversation they took their leave. Keith
quickly discovered that the opinion held by the commissioners was
shared by most of his friends. They acknowledged the brilliance of his
legal victory, admired it heartily, and congratulated him; but they
considered that victory barren.
"Nobody will buy; you won't get two bits a lot bid," they all told him.
Little Doctor Jones came to him much depressed. The commissioners had
talked with him.
"Do you want my advice?" asked Keith, "Then do this: stick to your
guns."
But little Jones was scared.
"I want my money," said he; "perhaps I'd better take those bonds after
all."
"Look here," suddenly said Keith, who had been making up his mind.
"I'll guarantee you the full amount in cash, within, say, two weeks,
but only on this condition: that you go out now, and spread it about
everywhere that you are going to stand pat. Tell 'em all you are going
to push through this sale."
"How do I know----"
"Take a chance," interrupted Keith. "If at the end of two weeks I don't
pay you cash, you can do what you please. Call off the sheriff's sale
at the last minute; I'll pay the costs myself. Come, that's fair
enough. You can't lose a cent."
"All right," agreed Jones after a minute.
"Remember: it's part of the bargain that you state everywhere that
you're going to force this sale, and that you don't let anybody bluff
you."
The affair made quite a little stir. Men like Sam Brannan, Dick
Blatchford, the contractor, and Jim Polk discussed Keith and his
ability.
"Got a pretty wife, too," added Brannan. "--never heard of the fall of
man."
"Well, she's going to, if the Morrell woman has her way," observed Ben
Sansome dryly.
Polk stretched his long legs, and smiled his desiccated little smile.
"He's a pretty enterprising youngster--more ways than one," said he.