Outwardly, at least, Judge Brewster's offices at 83 Broadway in no way
differed from the offices of ten thousand other lawyers who strive to
eke out a difficult living in the most overcrowded of all the
professions. They consisted of a modest suite of rooms on the sixth
floor. There was a small outer office with a railed-off inclosure,
behind which sat a half dozen stenographers busy copying legal
documents; as many men clerks were writing at desks, and the walls were
fitted with shelves filled with ponderous law books. In one corner was a
room with glass door marked "Mr. Brewster, Private."
Assuredly no casual visitor could guess from the appearance of the place
that this was the headquarters of one of the most brilliant legal minds
in the country, yet in this very office had been prepared some of the
most sensational victories ever recorded in the law courts.
Visitors to Judge Brewster's office were not many. A man of such renown
was naturally expensive. Few could afford to retain his services and in
fact he was seldom called upon except to act in the interest of wealthy
corporations. In these cases, of course, his fees were enormous. He had
very few private clients; in fact, he declined much private practice
that was offered to him. He had been the legal adviser of Howard
Jeffries, Sr., for many years. The two men had known each other in their
younger days and practically had won success together--the one in the
banking business, the other in the service of the law. An important
trust company, of which Mr. Jeffries was president, was constantly
involved in all kinds of litigation of which Judge Brewster had
exclusive charge. As the lawyer found this highly remunerative, it was
only natural that he had no desire to lose Mr. Jeffries as a client.
Secluded in his private office, the judge was busy at his desk,
finishing a letter. He folded it up, addressed an envelope, then lit a
cigar and looked at the time. It was three o'clock. The day's work was
about over and he smiled with satisfaction as he thought of the
automobile ride in the park he would enjoy before dressing and going to
his club for dinner. He felt in singularly good spirits that afternoon.
He had just won in the court a very complicated case which meant not
only a handsome addition to his bank account, but a signal triumph over
his legal opponents. Certainly, fortune smiled on him. He had no other
immediate cases on hand to worry about. He could look forward to a few
weeks of absolute rest. He struck a bell on his desk and a clerk
entered. Handing him the note he had just written, he said:
"Have this sent at once by messenger."
"Very well, judge," answered the clerk.
"By the bye," frowned the lawyer, "has that woman been in to-day?"
"Yes--she sat in the outer office all morning, trying to see you. We
said you were out of town, but she did not believe it. She sat there
till she got tired. She had no idea that you went out by another
stairway."
"Humph," growled the lawyer; "a nice thing to be besieged in this
manner. If she annoys me much longer, I shall send for the police."
At that moment another clerk entered the room.
"What is it, Mr. Jones?" demanded the lawyer.
"A lady to see you, judge," said the clerk, handing him a card.
The lawyer glanced at the bit of pasteboard, and said immediately:
"Oh, yes, show her in."
The two clerks left the room and Judge Brewster, after a glance in the
mirror to re-adjust his cravat, turned to greet his visitor. The door
opened and Alicia entered. She was faultlessly gowned, as usual, but her
manner was flurried and agitated. Evidently something had happened to
upset her, and she had come to make her husband's lawyer the confidant
of her troubles. The judge advanced gallantly and pointed to a chair.
"Good morning, my dear Mrs. Jeffries, how do you do?"
"Is Mr. Jeffries here?" asked Alicia hurriedly.
"Not yet," he replied, smiling. "This is an unexpected pleasure. I think
it is the first time you have graced my office with your presence."
"How quiet it is here!" she exclaimed, looking around nervously. "It is
hard to believe this is the very centre of the city." Taking the seat
offered to her, she went on:
"Oh, judge, we are dreadfully worried."
"You mean about the Underwood case?"
Alicia nodded.
"Yes, Mr. Jeffries is terribly upset. As if the coming trial and all the
rest of the scandal were not enough. But now we have to face something
even worse, something that affects me even more than my husband. Really,
I'm frantic about it."
"What's happened now?" asked the lawyer calmly.
"That woman is going on the stage, that's all!" she snapped.
"H'm," said the lawyer calmly.
"Just think!" she cried, "the name, 'Mrs. Howard Jeffries'--my
name--paraded before the public! At a time when everything should be
done to keep it out of the papers this woman is going to flaunt herself
on the stage!"
She fanned herself indignantly, while the lawyer rapped his desk
absent-mindedly with a paper cutter. Alicia went on:
"You know I have never met the woman. What is she like? I understand
she's been bothering you to take the case of that worthless husband of
hers. Do you know she had the impertinence to come to our house and ask
Mr. Jeffries to help them? I asked my husband to describe her, but all I
could get from him was that she was impertinent and impossible." She
hesitated a moment, then she added: "Is she as pretty as her pictures in
the paper? You've seen her, of course?"
Judge Brewster frowned.
"Yes," he replied. "She comes here every day regularly. She literally
compels me to see her and refuses to go till I've told her I haven't
changed my decision about taking her case."
"What insolence!" exclaimed Alicia. "I should think that you would have
her put out of the office."
The lawyer was silent and toyed somewhat nervously with the paper
cutter, as if not quite decided as to what response to make. He coughed
and fussed with the papers on the desk.
"Why don't you have her put out of the office?" she repeated.
The judge looked up. There was an expression in his face that might
have been interpreted as one of annoyance, as if he rather resented this
intrusion into his business affairs, but Mrs. Jeffries, Sr., was too
important a client to quarrel with, so he merely said:
"Frankly, Mrs. Jeffries, if it were not for the fact that Mr. Jeffries
has exacted from me a promise not to take up this case, I should be
tempted to--consider the matter. In the first place, you know I always
liked Howard. I saw a good deal of him before your marriage to Mr.
Jeffries. He was always a wild, unmanageable boy, weak in character, but
he had many lovable traits. I am very sorry indeed, to see him in such a
terrible position. It was hard for me to realize it and I should never
have believed him guilty had he not confessed to the crime."
"Yes," she assented. "It is an awful thing and a terrible blow to his
father. Of course, he has had nothing to do with Howard for months. As
you know, he turned him out of doors long ago, but the disgrace is none
the less overwhelming."
The lawyer looked out of the window and drummed his fingers on the arm
of his chair. Suddenly wheeling round, and facing his client, he said:
"You know this girl he married is no ordinary woman."
"Oh!" she exclaimed sarcastically. "She has succeeded in arousing your
sympathy."
The judge bowed coldly.
"No," he replied. "I would hardly say that. But she has aroused my
curiosity. She is a very peculiar girl, evidently a creature of impulse
and determination. I certainly feel sorry for her. Her position is a
very painful one. She has been married only a few months, and now her
husband has to face the most awful accusation that can be brought
against a man. She is plucky in spite of it all, and is moving heaven
and earth in Howard's defense. She believes herself to be in some
measure responsible for his misfortune. Apart from that, the case
interests me from a purely professional point of view. There are several
strange features connected with the case. Sometimes, in spite of
Howard's confession, I don't believe he committed that crime."
Alicia changed color and, shifting uneasily on her chair, scrutinized
the lawyer's face. What was behind that calm, inscrutable mask? What
theory had he formed? One newspaper had suggested suicide. She might
herself come forward and declare that Robert Underwood had threatened to
take his own life, but how could she face the scandal which such a
course would involve? She would have to admit visiting Underwood's rooms
at midnight alone. That surely would ruin her in the eyes not only of
her husband, but of the whole world. If this sacrifice of her good name
were necessary to save an innocent man's life, perhaps she might summon
up enough courage to make it. But, after all, she was by no means sure
herself that Underwood had committed suicide. Howard had confessed, so
why should she jeopardize her good name uselessly?
"No," repeated the judge, shaking his head, "there's something strange
in the whole affair. I don't believe Howard had any hand in it."
"But he confessed!" exclaimed Alicia.
The judge shook his head.
"That's nothing," he said. "There have been many instances of untrue
confessions. A famous affair of the kind was the Boorn case in Vermont.
Two brothers confessed having killed their brother-in-law and described
how they destroyed the body, yet some time afterward the murdered man
turned up alive and well. The object of the confession, of course, was
to turn the verdict from murder to manslaughter, the circumstantial
evidence against them having been so strong. In the days of witchcraft
the unfortunate women accused of being witches were often urged by
relatives to confess as being the only way of escape open to them. Ann
Foster, at Salem, in 1692, confessed that she was a witch. She said the
devil appeared to her in the shape of a bird, and that she attended a
meeting of witches at Salem village. She was not insane, but the horror
of the accusation brought against her had been too much for a weak mind.
Howard's confession may possibly be due to some such influence."
"I hope for his poor father's sake," said Alicia, "that you may be right
and that he may be proved innocent, but everything is overwhelmingly
against him. I think you are the only one in New York to express such a
doubt."
"Don't forget his wife," remarked the judge dryly.
"No," she replied. "I really feel sorry for the girl myself. Will you
give her some money if I----"
The lawyer shook his head.
"She won't take it. I tried it. She wants me to defend her husband--I
tried to bribe her to go to some other lawyer, but it wouldn't work."
"Well, something ought to be done to stop her annoying us!" exclaimed
Alicia indignantly. "Mr. Jeffries suffers terribly. I can hear him
pacing up and down the library till three or four in the morning. Poor
man, he suffers so keenly and he won't let any one sympathize with him.
He won't let me mention his son's name. I feel we ought to do something.
Try and persuade him to let me see this girl and--you are his friend as
well as his legal adviser."
Judge Brewster bowed.
"Your husband is a very old friend, Mrs. Jeffries. I can't disregard his
wishes entirely----"
There was a knock at the door of the private office.
"Come in," called the judge.
The door opened and the head clerk entered, ushering in Howard Jeffries,
Sr. The banker, still aristocratic and dignified, but looking tired and
care-worn, advanced into the room and shook hands with the judge, who
greeted him with a cordial smile. There was no response on the banker's
face. Querulously he demanded:
"Brewster, what's that woman doing out there again? It's not the first
time I've met her in this office."
Alicia looked up eagerly. "Is she out there now?" she cried.
"What right has she to come here? What's her object?" went on the banker
irritatedly.
The lawyer shrugged his shoulders.
"The same old thing," he replied. "She wants me to take her case."
The banker frowned.
"Didn't you tell her it was impossible?"
"That makes no difference," laughed the judge. "She comes just the same.
I've sent her away a dozen times. What am I to do if she insists on
coming? We can't have her arrested. She doesn't break the furniture or
beat the office boy. She simply sits and waits."
"Have you told her that I object to her coming here?" demanded the
banker haughtily.
"I have," replied the judge calmly, "but she has overruled your
objection." With a covert smile he added, "You know we can't use force."
Mr. Jeffries shrugged his shoulders impatiently.
"You can certainly use moral force," he said.
"What do you mean by moral force?" demanded the lawyer.
Mr. Jeffries threw up his hands as if utterly disgusted with the whole
business. Almost angrily he answered:
"Moral force is moral force. I mean persuasion, of course. Good God, why
can't people understand these things as I do?"
The judge said nothing, but turned to examine some papers on his desk.
He hardly liked the inference that he could not see things as plainly as
other people, but what was the use of getting irritated? He couldn't
afford to quarrel with one of his best clients.
Alicia looked at her husband anxiously. Laying her hand on his arm, she
said soothingly:
"Perhaps if I were to see her----"
Mr. Jeffries turned angrily.
"How can you think of such a thing? I can't permit my wife to come in
contact with a woman of that character."
Judge Brewster, who was listening in spite of the fact that he was
seemingly engrossed in his papers, pursed his lips.
"Oh, come," he said with a forced laugh, "she's not as bad as all that!"
"I'm sure she isn't," said Alicia emphatically. "She must be amenable to
reason."
The banker's wife was not altogether bad. Excessive vanity and ambition
had steeled her heart and stifled impulses that were naturally good, but
otherwise she was not wholly devoid of feeling. She was really sorry for
this poor little woman who was fighting so bravely to save her husband.
No doubt she had inveigled Howard into marrying her, but
she--Alicia--had no right to sit in judgment on her for that. If the
girl had been ambitious to marry above her, in what way was she more
guilty than she herself had been in marrying a man she did not love,
simply for his wealth and social position? Besides, Alicia was herself
sorely troubled. Her conscience told her that a word from her might set
the whole matter right. She might be able to prove that Underwood
committed suicide. She knew she was a coward and worse than a coward
because she dare not speak that word. The more she saw her husband's
anger the less courage she had to do it. In any case, she argued to
herself, Howard had confessed. If he shot Underwood there was no
suicide, so why should she incriminate herself needlessly? But there was
no reason why she should not show some sympathy for the poor girl who,
after all, was only doing what any good wife should do. Aloud she
repeated:
"I'll see the girl and talk to her. She must listen to reason."
"Reason!" exploded the banker angrily. "How can you expect reason from a
woman who hounds us, dogs our footsteps, tries to compel us to--take her
up?"
Judge Brewster, who had apparently paid no attention to the banker's
remarks, now turned around. Hesitatingly he said:
"I think you do her an injustice, Jeffries. She comes every day in the
hope that your feelings toward your son have changed. She wishes to give
color to the belief that his father's lawyers are championing his
cause. She was honest enough to tell me so. You know her movements are
closely watched by the newspapers and she takes good care to let the
reporters think that she comes here to discuss with me the details of
her husband's defense."
The banker shifted impatiently on his chair. Contemptuously he said:
"The newspapers which I read don't give her the slightest attention. If
they did I should refuse to read them." With growing irritation he went
on:
"It's no use talking about her any more. What are we going to do about
this latest scandal? This woman is going on the stage to be exhibited
all over the country and she proposes to use the family name."
"There is nothing to prevent her," said the lawyer dryly.
The banker jumped to his feet and exclaimed angrily:
"There must be! Good God, Brewster, surely you can obtain an injunction
restraining her from using the family name! You must do something. What
do you advise?"
"I advise patience," replied the judge calmly.
But Mr. Jeffries had no patience. He was a man who was not accustomed to
have his wishes thwarted. He did not understand why there should be the
slightest difficulty in carrying out his instructions.
"Any one can advise patience!" he exclaimed hotly, "but that's not doing
anything." Banging the desk angrily with his fist, he shouted: "I want
something done!"
Judge Brewster looked up at his client with surprise. The judge never
lost his temper. Even in the most acrimonious wrangles in the courtroom
he was always the suave, polished gentleman. There was a shade of
reproach in his tone as he replied:
"Come, come, don't lose your temper! I'll do what I can, but there is
nothing to be done in the way you suggest. The most I can do is to
remain loyal to you, although--to be quite candid--I confess it goes
against the grain to keep my hands off this case. As I told your wife,
there are certain features about it which interest me keenly. I feel
that you are wrong to----"
"No, Brewster!" interrupted Mr. Jeffries explosively. "I'm right! I'm
right! You know it, but you won't admit it."
The lawyer shrugged his shoulders and turned to his desk again.
Laconically, he said:
"Well, I won't argue the matter with you. You refuse to be advised by me
and----"
The banker looked up impatiently.
"What is your advice?"
The lawyer, without looking up from his papers, said quietly:
"You know what my feelings in the matter are."
"And you know what mine are!" exclaimed the banker hotly. "I refuse to
be engulfed in this wave of hysterical sympathy with criminals. I will
not be stamped with the same hall mark as the man who takes the life of
his fellow being--though the man be my own son. I will not set the seal
of approval on crime by defending it."
The lawyer bowed and said calmly:
"Then, sir, you must expect exactly what is happening. This girl,
whatever she may be, is devoted to your son. She is his wife. She'll go
to any extreme to help him--even to selling her name for money to pay
for his defense."
The banker threw up his hands with impatience.
"It's a matter of principle with me. Her devotion is not the question."
With a mocking laugh he went on: "Sentimentality doesn't appeal to me.
The whole thing is distasteful and hideous to me. My instructions to you
are to prevent her using the family name on the stage, to buy her off on
her own terms, to get rid of her at any price."
"Except the price she asks," interposed the lawyer dryly. Shaking his
head, he went on:
"You'll find that a wife's devotion is a very strong motive power,
Jeffries. It will move irresistibly forward in spite of all the barriers
you and I can erect to stay its progress. That may sound like a
platitude, but it's a fact nevertheless."
Alicia, who had been listening with varied emotions to the conversation,
now interrupted timidly:
"Perhaps Judge Brewster is right, dear. After all, the girl is working
to save your son. Public opinion may think it unnatural----"
The banker turned on his wife. Sternly he said:
"Alicia, I cannot permit you to interfere. That young man is a
self-confessed murderer and therefore no son of mine. I've done with him
long ago. I cannot be moved by maudlin sentimentality. Please let that
be final." Turning to the lawyer, he said coldly:
"So, in the matter of this stage business, you can take no steps to
restrain her?"
The lawyer shook his head.
"No, there is nothing I can do." Quickly he added: "Of course, you don't
doubt my loyalty to you?"
Mr. Jeffries shook his head.
"No, no, Brewster."
The lawyer laughed as he said:
"Right or wrong, you know--'my country'--that is, my client--''tis of
thee.'" Turning to Alicia, he added laughingly: "That's the painful part
of a lawyer's profession, Mrs. Jeffries. The client's weakness is the
lawyer's strength. When men hate each other and rob each other we
lawyers don't pacify them. We dare not, because that is our profession.
We encourage them. We pit them against each other for profit. If we
didn't they'd go to some lawyer who would."
Alicia gave a feeble smile.
"Yes," she replied; "I'm afraid we all love to be advised to do what we
want to do."
Mr. Jeffries made an impatient gesture of dissent. Scoffingly he
remarked:
"That may apply to the great generality of people, but not to me."
Judge Brewster looked skeptical, but made no further comment. The banker
rose and Alicia followed suit. As he moved toward the door, he turned
and said:
"Drop in and see me this evening, Brewster. Mrs. Jeffries will be
delighted if you will dine with us."
Alicia smiled graciously. "Do come, judge; we shall be all alone."
The lawyer bent low over her hand as he said good-by. Mr. Jeffries had
already reached the door, when he turned again and said:
"Are you sure a very liberal offer wouldn't induce her to drop the
name?"
The lawyer shook his head doubtfully.
"Well, see what you can do," cried the banker. To his wife he said: "Are
you coming, Alicia?"
"Just a moment, dear," she replied. "I want to say a word to the
judge."
"All right," replied the banker. "I'll be outside." He opened the door,
and as he did so he turned to the lawyer:
"If there are any new developments let me know at once."
He left the office and Alicia breathed a sigh of relief. She did not
love her husband, but she feared him. He was not only twenty years her
senior, but his cold, aristocratic manner intimidated her. Her first
impulse had been to tell him everything, but she dare not. His manner
discouraged her. He would begin to ask questions, questions which she
could not answer without seriously incriminating herself. But her
conscience would not allow her to stand entirely aloof from the tragedy
in which her husband's scapegrace son was involved. She felt a strange,
unaccountable desire to meet this girl Howard had married. In a quick
undertone to the lawyer, she said:
"I must see that woman, judge. I think I can persuade her to change her
course of action. In any case I must see her, I must----" Looking at him
questioningly, she said: "You don't think it inadvisable, do you?"
The judge smiled grimly.
"I think I'd better see her first," he said. "Suppose you come back a
little later. It's more than probable that she'll be here this
afternoon. I'll see her and arrange for an interview."
There was a knock at the door, and Alicia started guiltily, thinking her
husband might have overheard their conversation. The head clerk entered
and whispered something to the judge, after which he retired. The lawyer
turned to Alicia with a smile.
"It's just as I thought," he said pleasantly, "she's out there now.
You'd better go and leave her to me."
The door opened again unceremoniously, and Mr. Jeffries put in his head:
"Aren't you coming, Alicia?" he demanded impatiently. In a lower voice
to the lawyer, he added: "Say, Brewster, that woman is outside in your
office. Now is your opportunity to come to some arrangement with her."
Again Mrs. Jeffries held out her hand.
"Good-by, judge; you're so kind! It needs a lot of patience to be a
lawyer, doesn't it?"
Judge Brewster laughed, and added in an undertone:
"Come back by and by."
The door closed, and the lawyer went back to his desk. For a few moments
he sat still plunged in deep thought. Suddenly, he touched a bell. The
head clerk entered.
"Show Mrs. Howard Jeffries, Jr., in."
The clerk looked surprised. Strict orders hitherto had been to show the
unwelcome visitor out. He believed that he had not heard aright.
"Did you say Mrs. Jeffries, Jr., judge?"
"I said Mrs. Jeffries, Jr.," replied the lawyer grimly.
"Very well, judge," said the clerk, as he left the room.
Presently there was a timid knock at the door.
"Come in!" called out the lawyer.