Counsel for the Defense

by Leroy Scott

  CHAPTER VI

  THE LADY LAWYER

  When old Hosie had withdrawn with his expectorative plunder, Katherinesat down at the desk and gazed thoughtfully out of her window, takingin the tarnished dome of the Court House that rose lustreless abovethe elm tops and the heavy-boned farmhorses that stood about the ironhitch-racks of the Square, stamping and switching their tails indozing warfare against the flies.

  Once more, she began to go over the case. Having decided to test allpossible theories, she for the moment pigeon-holed the idea of amistake, and began to seek for other explanations. For a space shevacantly watched the workmen tearing down the speakers' stand. Butpresently her eyes began to glow, and she sprang up and excitedlypaced the little office.

  Perhaps her father had unwittingly and innocently become involved insome large system of corruption! Perhaps this case was the firstsymptom of the existence of some deep-hidden municipal disease!

  It seemed possible--very possible. Her two years with the MunicipalLeague had taught her how common were astute dishonest practices. Theidea filled her. She began to burn with a feverish hope. But from thefirst moment she was sufficiently cool-headed to realize that tofollow up the idea she required intimate knowledge of Westvillepolitical conditions.

  Here she felt herself greatly handicapped. Owing to her long residenceaway from Westville she was practically in ignorance of publicaffairs--and she faced the further difficulty of having no one to whomshe could turn for information. Her father she knew could be of littleservice; expert though he was in his specialty, he was blind to evilin men. As for Blake, she did not care to ask aid from him so soonafter his refusal of assistance. And as for others, she felt that allwho could give her information were either hostile to her father orcritical of herself.

  For days the idea possessed her mind. She kept it to herself, and, hersuspicious eyes sweeping in all directions, she studied as best shecould to find some evidence or clue to evidence, that wouldcorroborate her conjecture. In her excited hope, she strove, while shethought and worked, to be indifferent to what the town might thinkabout her. But she was well aware that Old Hosie's prophecy was swiftin coming true--that a storm was raging, a storm of her own sex. Itshould be explained, however, in justice to them, that they forgot thefact, or never really knew it, that she had been forced to take herfather's case. To be sure, there was no open insult, no direct attack,no face-to-face denunciation; but piazzas buzzed indignantly with hername, and at the meeting of the Ladies' Aid the poor were forgotten,as at the Missionary Society were the unbibled heathen upon theforeign shore.

  Fragments of her sisters' pronouncements were wafted to Katherine'sears. "No self-respecting, womanly woman would ever think of wantingto be a lawyer"--"A forward, brazen, unwomanly young person"--"Adisgrace to the town, a disgrace to our sex"--"Think of the exampleshe sets to impressionable young girls; they'll want to break away anddo all sorts of unwomanly things"--"Everybody knows her reason forbeing a lawyer is only that it gives her a greater chance to be withthe men."

  Katherine heard, her mouth hardened, a certain defiance came into hermanner. But she went straight ahead seeking evidence to support hersuspicion.

  Every day made her feel more keenly her need of intimate knowledgeabout the city's political affairs; then, unexpectedly, and from anunexpected quarter, an informant stepped out upon her stage. Severaltimes Old Hosie Hollingsworth had spoken casually when they hadchanced to pass in the building or on the street. One day his lean,stooped figure appeared in her office and helped itself to a chair.

  "I see you haven't exactly made what Charlie Horn, in his dramaticcriticisms, calls an uproarious and unprecedented success," heremarked, after a few preliminaries.

  "I have not been sufficiently interested to notice," was her crispresponse.

  "That's right; keep your back up," said he. "I've been agin abouteverything that's popular, and for everything that's unpopular, thatever happened in this town. I've been an 'agin-er' for fifty years.They'd have tarred and feathered me long ago if there'd been anyleading citizen unstingy enough to have donated the tar. Then, too,I've had a little money, and going through the needle's eye is easybusiness compared to losing the respect of Westville so long as you'vegot money--unless, of course," he added, "you're a female lawyer. Itell you, there's no more fun than stirring up the animals in this oldtown. Any one unpopular in Westville is worth being friends with, andso if you're willing----"

  He held out his thin, bony hand. Katherine, with no very markedenthusiasm, took it. Then her eyes gleamed with a new light; andobeying an impulse she asked:

  "Are you acquainted with political conditions in Westville?"

  "Me acquainted with----" He cackled. "Why, I've been setting at myoffice window looking down on the political circus of this town eversince Noah run aground on Mount Ararat."

  She leaned forward eagerly.

  "Then you know how things stand?"

  "To a T."

  "Tell me, is there any rotten politics, any graft or corruption goingon?" She flushed. "Of course, I mean except what's charged against myfather."

  "When Blind Charlie Peck was in power, there was more graft anddirty----"

  "Not then, but now?" she interrupted.

  "Now? Well, of course you know that since Blake run Blind Charlie outof business ten years ago, Blake has been the big gun in this town."

  "Yes, I know."

  "Then you must know that in the last ten years Westville has beentext, sermon, and doxology for all the reformers in the state."

  "But could not corruption be going on without Mr. Blake knowing it?Could not Mr. Peck be secretly carrying out some scheme?"

  "Blind Charlie? Blind Charlie ain't dead yet, not by a long sight--andas long as there's a breath in his carcass, that good-natured oldblackguard is likely to be a dangerous customer. But though Charlie'sstill the boss of his party, he controls no offices, and has got noreal power. He's as helpless as Satan was after he'd been kicked outof heaven and before he'd landed that big job he holds on the floorbelow. Nowadays, Charlie just sits in his side office over at theTippecanoe House playing seven-up from breakfast till bedtime."

  "Then you think there's no corrupt politics in Westville?" she askedin a sinking voice.

  "Not an ounce of 'em!" said Old Hosie with decision.

  This agreed with the conviction that had been growing upon Katherineduring the last few days. While she had entertained suspicion of therebeing corruption, she had several times considered the advisability ofputting a detective on the case. But this idea she now abandoned.

  After this talk with the old lawyer, Katherine was forced back againupon misunderstanding. She went carefully over the records of herfather's department, on file in the Court House, seeking some itemthat would cast light upon the puzzle. She went over and over theindictment, seeking some loose end, some overlooked inconsistency,that would yield her at least a clue.

  For days she kept doggedly at this work, steeling herself against thedisapprobation of the town. But she found nothing. Then, in a flash,an overlooked point recurred to her. The trouble, so went her theory,was all due to a confusion of the bribe with the donation to thehospital. Where was that donation?

  Here was a matter that might at last lead to a solution of thedifficulty. Again on fire with hope, she interviewed her father. Hewas certain that a donation had been promised, he had thought theenvelope handed him by Mr. Marcy contained the gift--but of thedonation itself he knew no more. She interviewed Doctor Sherman; hehad heard Mr. Marcy refer to a donation but knew nothing about thematter. She tried to get in communication with Mr. Marcy, only tolearn that he was in England studying some new filtering plantsrecently installed in that country. Undiscouraged, she one day steppedoff the train in St. Louis, the home of the Acme Filter, and appearedin the office of the company.

  The general manager, a gentleman who ran to portliness in his figure,his jewellery and his courtesy, seemed perfectly acquainted with thecase. In exculpation of himself
and his company, he said that theywere constantly being held up by every variety of official from acounty commissioner to a mayor, and they were simply forced to give"presents" in order to do business.

  "But my father's defense," put in Katherine, "was that he thought this'present' was in reality a donation to the hospital. Was anything saidto my father about a donation?"

  "I believe there was."

  "That corroborates my father!" Katherine exclaimed eagerly. "Would youmake that statement at the trial--or at least give me an affidavit tothat effect?"

  "I'll be glad to give you an affidavit. But I should explain that the'present' and the donation were two distinctly separate affairs."

  "Then what became of the donation?" Katherine cried triumphantly.

  "It was sent," said the manager.

  "Sent?"

  "I sent it myself," was the reply.

  Katherine left St. Louis more puzzled than before. What had become ofthe check, if it had really been sent? Home again, she ransacked herfather's desk with his aid, and in a bottom drawer they found a heapof long-neglected mail.

  Doctor West at first scratched his head in perplexity. "I remembernow," he said. "I never was much of a hand to keep up with my letters,and for the few days before that celebration I was so excited that Ijust threw everything----"

  But Katherine had torn open an envelope and was holding in her hands afifty dollar check from the Acme Filter Company.

  "What was the date of your arrest?" she asked sharply. "The date Mr.Marcy gave you that money?"

  "The fifteenth of May."

  "This check is dated the twelfth of May. The envelope shows it wasreceived in Westville on the thirteenth."

  "Well, what of that?"

  "Only this," said Katherine slowly, and with a chill at her heart,"that the prosecution can charge, and we cannot disprove the charge,that the real donation was already in your possession at the time youaccepted what you say you believed was the donation."

  Then, with a rush, a great temptation assailed Katherine--to destroythis piece of evidence unfavourable to her father which she held inher hands. For several moments the struggle continued fiercely. Butshe had made a vow with herself when she had entered law that she wasgoing to keep free from the trickery and dishonourable practices socommon in her profession. She was going to be an honest lawyer, or beno lawyer at all. And so, at length, she laid the check before herfather.

  "Just indorse it, and we'll send it in to the hospital," she said.

  Afterward it occurred to her that to have destroyed the check would atthe best have helped but little, for the prosecution, if it sodesired, could introduce witnesses to prove that the donation had beensent. Suspicion of having destroyed or suppressed the check would theninevitably have rested upon her father.

  This discovery of the check was a heavy blow, but Katherine wentdoggedly back to the first beginnings; and as the weeks crept slowlyby she continued without remission her desperate search for a cluewhich, followed up, would make clear to every one that the wholeaffair was merely a mistake. But the only development of the summerwhich bore at all upon the case--and that bearing seemed to Katherineindirect--was that, since early June, the service of the water-workshad steadily been deteriorating. There was frequently a shortage inthe supply, and the filtering plant, the direct cause of Doctor West'sdisgrace, had proved so complete a failure that its use had beendiscontinued. The water was often murky and unpleasant to the taste.Moreover, all kinds of other faults began to develop in the plant. Thecity complained loudly of the quality of the water and the failure ofthe system. It was like one of these new-fangled toys, averred thestreet corners, that runs like a miracle while the paint is on it andthen with a whiz and a whir goes all to thunder.

  But to this mere by-product of the case Katherine gave little thought.She had to keep desperately upon the case itself. At times, feelingherself so alone, making no inch of headway, her spirits sank very lowindeed. What made the case so wearing on the soul was that she wasgroping in the dark. She was fighting an invisible enemy, even thoughit was no more than a misunderstanding--an enemy whom, strive as shewould, she could not clutch, with whom she could not grapple. Againand again she prayed for a foe in the open. Had there been a fight, nomatter how bitter, her part would have been far, far easier--for infight there is action and excitement and the lifting hope of victory.

  It took courage to work as she did, weary week upon weary week, anddiscover nothing. It took courage not to slink away at the town'sdisapprobation. At times, in the bitterness of her heart, she wishedshe were out of it all, and could just rest, and be friends with everyone. In such moods it would creep coldly in upon her that there couldbe but one solution to the case--that after all her father must beguilty. But when she would go home and look into his thoughtful,unworldy old face, that solution would instantly become impossible;and she would cast out doubt and despair and renew her determination.

  The weeks dragged heavily on--hot and dusty after the first of July,and so dry that out in the country the caked earth was a fine networkof zigzagging fissures, and the farmers, gazing despondently upontheir shrivelling corn, watched with vain hope for a rescuing cloud todarken the clear, hard, brilliant heavens. At length the summer burnedto its close; the opening day of the September term of court was closeat hand. But still the case stood just as on the day Katherine hadstepped so joyously from the Limited. The evidence of Sherman wasunshaken. The charges of Bruce had no answer.

  One afternoon--her father's case was set for two days later--asKatherine left her office, desperate, not knowing which way to turn,her nerves worn fine and thin by the long strain, she saw her father'sname on the front page of the _Express_. She bought a copy. In thecentre of the first page, in a "box" and set in heavy-faced type, wasan editorial in Bruce's most rousing style, trying her father inadvance, declaring him flagrantly guilty, and demanding for him thelaw's extremest penalty.

  That editorial unloosed her long-collected wrath--wrath that had manya reason. In Bruce's person Katherine had from the first seen thesumming up, the leader, of the bitterness against her father. Allsummer he had continued his sharp attacks, and the virulence of thesehad helped keep the town wrought up against Doctor West. Moreover,Katherine despised Bruce as a powerful, ruthless, demagogic hypocrite.And to her hostility against him in her father's behalf and to hercontempt for his quack radicalism, was added the bitter implacabilityof the woman who feels herself scorned. The town's attitude toward hershe resented. But Bruce she hated, and him she prayed with all hersoul that she might humble.

  She crushed the _Express_, flung it from her into the gutter, andwalked home all a-tremble. Her aunt met her in the hall as she waslaying off her hat. A spot burned faintly in either withered cheek ofthe old woman.

  "Who does thee think is here?" she asked.

  "Who?" Katherine repeated mechanically, her wrath too high forinterest in anything else.

  "Mr. Bruce. Upstairs with thy father."

  "What!" cried Katherine.

  Her hat missed the hook and fell to the floor, and she went springingup the stairway. The next instant she flung open her father's door,and walked straight up to Bruce, before whom she paused, bosomheaving, eyes on fire.

  "What are you doing here?" she demanded.

  His powerful figure rose, and his square-hewn face looked directlyinto her own.

  "Interviewing your father," he returned with his aggressive calm.

  "He was asking me to confess," explained Doctor West.

  "Confess?" cried Katherine.

  "Just so," replied Bruce. "His guilt is undoubted, so he might as wellconfess."

  Scorn flamed at him.

  "I see! You are trying to get a confession out of him, in advance ofthe trial, as a big feature for your terrible paper!"

  She moved a pace nearer him. All the suppressed anger, all the hiddenanguish, of the last three months burst up volcanically.

  "Oh! oh!" she cried breathlessly. "I never dreamt till I met you th
ata man could be so low, so heartless, as to hound an old man as youhave hounded my father--and all for the sake of a yellow newspapersensation. But he's a safe man for you to attack. Yes, he's safe--old,unpopular, helpless!"

  Bruce's heavy brows lowered. He did not give back a step before herireful figure.

  "And because he's old and unpopular I should not attack him, eh?" hedemanded. "Because he's down, I should not hit him? That's yourwoman's reasoning, is it? Well, let me tell you," and his gray eyesflashed, and his voice had a crunching tone--"that I believe whenyou've got an enemy of society down, don't, because you pity him, lethim up to go and do the same thing again. While you've got him down,keep on hitting him till you've got him finished!"

  "Like the brute that you are!" she cried. "But, like the coward youare, you first very carefully choose your 'enemy of society.' You werecareful to choose one who could not hit back!"

  "I did not choose your father. He thrust himself upon the town'sattention. And I consider neither his weakness nor his strength. Iconsider only the fact that your father has done the city a greaterinjury than any man who ever lived in Westville."

  "It's a lie! I tell you it's a lie!"

  "It's the truth!" he declared harshly, dominantly. "His swindlingWestville by giving us a worthless filtering-plant in return for abribe--why, that is the smallest evil he has done the town. Beforethat time, Westville was on the verge of making great municipaladvances--on the verge of becoming a model and a leader for the smallcities of the Middle West. And now all that grand development isruined--and ruined by that man, your father!" He excitedly jerked apaper from his pocket and held it out to her. "If you want to seewhat he has brought us to, read that editorial in the _Clarion_!"

  She fixed him with glittering eyes.

  "I have read one cowardly editorial to-day in a Westville paper. Thatis enough."

  "Read that, I say!" he commanded.

  For answer she took the _Clarion_ and tossed it into the waste-basket.She glared at him, quivering all over, in her hands a convulsive itchfor physical vengeance.

  "If I thought that in all your fine talk about the city there was onesingle word of sincerity, I might respect you," she said with slow andscathing contempt. "But your words are the words of a mere poseur--ofa man who twists the truth to fit his desires--of a man who deals inthe ideas that seem to him most profitable--of a man who cares not howpoor, how innocent, is the body he uses as a stepping stone for hisclambering greed and ambition. Oh, I know you--I have watched you--Ihave read you. You are a mere self-seeker! You are a demagogue! Youare a liar! And, on top of that, you are a coward!"

  Whatever Arnold Bruce was, he was a man with a temper. Fury wasblazing behind his heavy spectacles.

  "Go on! I care _that_ for the words of a woman who has so littletaste, so little sense, so little modesty, as to leave the sphere----"

  "You boor!" gasped Katharine.

  "Perhaps I am. At least I am not afraid to speak the truth straightout even to a woman. You are all wrong. You are unwomanly. You areunsexed. Your pretensions as a lawyer are utterly preposterous, as thetrial on Thursday will show you. And the condemnation of the town isnot half as severe a rebuke----"

  "Stop!" gasped Katherine. A wild defiance surged up and overmasteredher, her nerves broke, and her hot words tumbled out hysterically."You think you are a God-anointed critic of humanity, but you are onlya heartless, conceited cad! Just wait--I'll show you what yourjudgment of me is worth! I am going to clear my father! I am going tomake this Westville that condemns me kneel at my feet! and as foryou--you can think what you please! But don't you ever dare to speakto my father again--don't you ever dare speak to me again--don't youever dare enter this house again! Now go! Go! I say. Go! Go! Go!"

  His face had grown purple; he seemed to be choking. For a space hegazed at her. Then without answering he bowed slightly and was gone.

  She glared a moment at the door. Then suddenly she collapsed upon thefloor, her head and arms on the old haircloth sofa, and her whole bodyshook with silent sobs. Doctor West, first gazing at her a littlehelplessly, sat down upon the sofa, and softly stroked her hair. For atime there were no words--only her convulsive breathing, her chokingsobs.

  Presently he said gently:

  "I'm sure you'll do everything you said."

  "No--that's the trouble," she moaned. "What I said--was--was just abig bluff. I won't do any--of those things. Your trial is two daysoff--and, father, I haven't one bit of evidence--I don't know whatwe're going to do--and the jury will have to--oh, father, father, thatman was right; I'm just--just a great big failure!"

  Again she shook with sobs. The old man continued to sit beside her,softly stroking her thick brown hair.