“You’ve been admitted to the bar?” he asked.
“Yes, sir. Graduate of the Penn Law School.”
“Then you know enough to defend an innocent man from an unjust accusation?”
Colby laid down the guitar.
“Ah!” said he, “this grows interesting. I really believe you have half a mind to give me your case. Sir, I know enough, I hope, to defend an innocent man; but I can’t promise, offhand, to save him, even from an unjust accusation.”
“Why not? Doesn’t law stand for justice?”
“Perhaps; in the abstract. Anyhow, there’s a pretty fable to that effect. But law in the abstract, and law as it is interpreted and applied, are not even second cousins. To be quite frank, I’d rather defend a guilty person than an innocent one. The chances are I’d win more easily. Are you sure your man is innocent?”
Uncle John scowled.
“Perhaps I’d better find another lawyer who is more optimistic,” he said.
“Oh, I’m full of optimism, sir. My fault is that I’m not well known in the courts and have no arrangement to divide my fees with the powers that be. But I’ve been observing and I know the tricks of the trade as well as any lawyer in California. My chief recommendation, however, is that I’m eager to get a case, for my rent is sadly overdue. Why not try me, just to see what I’m able to do? I’d like to find that out myself.”
“This is a very important matter,” asserted Mr. Merrick.
“Very. If I’m evicted for lack of rent-money my career is crippled.”
“I mean the case is a serious one.”
“Are you willing to pay for success?”
“Liberally.”
“Then I’ll win it for you. Don’t judge my ability by my present condition, sir. Tell me your story and I’ll get to work at once.”
Uncle John rose with sudden decision.
“Put on your coat,” he said, and while Colby obeyed with alacrity he gave him a brief outline of the accusation brought against Jones. “I want you to take my car,” he added, “and hasten to the police station, that you may be present at the preliminary examination. There will be plenty of time to talk afterward.”
Colby nodded. His coat and hat made the young lawyer quite presentable and without another word he followed Mr. Merrick down the stairs and took his seat in the motorcar. Next moment he was whirling down the street and Uncle John looked after him with a half puzzled expression, as if he wondered whether or not he had blundered in his choice of a lawyer.
A little later he secured a taxicab and drove to the office of the Continental Film Manufacturing Company. Mr. Goldstein was in his office but sent word that he was too busy to see visitors. Nevertheless, when Mr. Merrick declared he had been sent by A. Jones, he was promptly admitted to the manager’s sanctum.
“Our friend, young Jones,” he began, “has just been arrested by a detective.”
Goldstein’s nervous jump fairly raised him off his chair; but in an instant he settled back and shot an eager, interested look at his visitor.
“What for, Mr. Merrick?” he demanded.
“For stealing valuable pearls from some foreign woman. A trumped-up charge, of course.”
Goldstein rubbed the palms of his hands softly together. His face wore a look of supreme content.
“Arrested! Ah, that is bad, Mr. Merrick. It is very bad indeed. And it involves us — the Continental, you know — in an embarrassing manner.”
“Why so?” asked Uncle John.
“Can’t you see, sir?” asked the manager, trying hard to restrain a smile. “If the papers get hold of this affair, and state that our president — our biggest owner — the man who controls the Continental stock — is a common thief, the story will — eh — eh — put a bad crimp in our business, so to speak.”
Uncle John looked at the man thoughtfully.
“So Jones controls the Continental, eh?” he said. “How long since, Mr.
Goldstein?”
“Why, since the January meeting, a year and more ago. It was an astonishing thing, and dramatic — believe me! At the annual meeting of stockholders in walks this stripling — a mere kid — proves that he holds the majority of stock, elects himself president and installs a new board of directors, turning the tired and true builders of the business out in the cold. Then, without apology, promise or argument, President Jones walks out again! In an hour he upset the old conditions, turned our business topsy-turvy and disappeared with as little regard for the Continental as if it had been a turnip. That stock must have cost him millions, and how he ever got hold of it is a mystery that has kept us all guessing ever since. The only redeeming feature of the affair was that the new board of directors proved decent and Jones kept away from us all and let us alone. I’d never seen him until he came here a few days ago and began to order me around. So, there, Mr. Merrick, you know as much about Jones as I do.”
Mr. Merrick was perplexed. The more he heard of young Jones the more amazing; the boy seemed to be.
“Has the Continental lost money since Jones took possession?” he inquired.
“I think not,” replied Goldstein, cautiously. “You’re a business man, Mr. Merrick, and can understand that our machinery — our business system — is so perfect that it runs smoothly, regardless of who grabs the dividends. What I object to is this young fellow’s impertinence in interfering with my work here. He walks in, reverses my instructions to my people, orders me to do unbusinesslike things and raises hob with the whole organization.”
“Well, it belongs to him, Goldstein,” said Uncle John, in defense of the boy. “He is your employer and has the right to dictate. But just at present he needs your help. He asked me to come here and tell you of his arrest.”
Goldstein shrugged his shoulders.
“His arrest is none of my business,” was his reply. “If Jones stole the money to buy Continental stock he must suffer the consequences. I’m working for the stock, not for the individual.”
“But surely you will go to the station and see what can be done for him?” protested Uncle John.
“Surely I will not,” retorted the manager. “What’s the use? There isn’t even a foot of good picture film in so common a thing as the arrest of a thief — and the censors would forbid it if there were. Let Jones fight his own battles.”
“It occurs to me,” suggested Mr. Merrick, who was growing indignant, “that Mr. Jones will be able to satisfy the court that he is not a thief, and so secure his freedom without your assistance. What will happen then, Mr. Goldstein?”
“Then? Why, it is still none of my business. I’m the manager of a motion picture concern — one of the biggest concerns in the world — and I’ve nothing to do with the troubles of my stockholders.”
He turned to his desk and Mr. Merrick was obliged to go away without farther parley. On his way out he caught a glimpse of Maud Stanton passing through the building. She was dressed in the costume of an Indian princess and looked radiantly beautiful. Uncle John received a nod and a smile and then she was gone, without as yet a hint of the misfortune that had overtaken A. Jones of Sangoa.
Returning to the hotel, rather worried and flustered by the morning’s events, he found the girls quietly seated in the lobby, busy over their embroidery.
“Well, Uncle,” said Patsy, cheerfully, “is Ajo still in limbo?”
“I suppose so,” he rejoined, sinking into an easy chair beside her. “Is
Arthur back yet?”
“No,” said Louise, answering for her husband, “he is probably staying to do all he can for the poor boy.”
“Did you get a lawyer?” inquired Beth.
“I got a fellow who claims to be a lawyer; but I’m not sure he will be of any use.”
Then he related his interview with Colby, to the amusement of his nieces, all three of whom approved the course he had taken and were already prepared to vouch for the briefless barrister’s ability, on the grounds that eccentricity meant talent.
; “You see,” explained Miss Patsy, “he has nothing else to do but jump heart and soul into this case, so Ajo will be able to command his exclusive services, which with some big, bustling lawyer would be impossible.”
Luncheon was over before Arthur finally appeared, looking somewhat grave and perturbed.
“They won’t accept bail,” he reported. “Jones must stay in jail until his formal examination, and if they then decide that he is really Jack Andrews he will remain in jail until his extradition papers arrive.”
“When will he be examined?” asked Louise.
“Whenever the judge feels in the humor, it seems. Our lawyer demanded Jones’ release at once, on the ground that a mistake of identity had been made; but the stupid judge is of the opinion that the charge against our friend is valid. At any rate he refused to let him go. He wouldn’t even argue the case at present. He issues a warrant on a charge of larceny, claps a man in jail whether innocent or not, and refuses to let him explain anything or prove his innocence until a formal examination is held.”
“There is some justice in that,” remarked Uncle John. “Suppose Jones is guilty; it would be a mistake to let him go free until a thorough examination had been made.”
“And if he is innocent, he will have spent several days in jail, been worried and disgraced, and there is no redress for the false imprisonment. The judge won’t even apologize to him!”
“It’s all in the interests of law and order, I suppose,” said Patsy; “but the law seems dreadfully inadequate to protect the innocent. I suppose it’s because the courts are run by cheap and incompetent people who couldn’t earn a salary in any other way.”
“Someone must run them, and it isn’t an ambitious man’s job,” replied
Uncle John. “What do you think of the lawyer I sent you, Arthur?”
The young ranchman smiled.
“He’s a wonder, Uncle. He seemed to know more about the case than Jones or I did, and more about the law than the judge did. He’s an irrepressible fellow, and told that rascal Le Drieux a lot about pearls that the expert never had heard before. Where did you find him, sir?”
Uncle John explained.
“Well,” said Arthur, “I think Jones is in good hands. Colby has secured him a private room at the jail, with a bath and all the comforts of home. Meals are to be sent in from a restaurant and when I left the place the jailer had gone out to buy Jones a stock of books to while away his leisure hours — which are bound to be numerous. I’d no idea a prisoner could live in such luxury.”
“Money did it, I suppose,” Patsy shrewdly suggested.
“Yes. Jones wrote a lot of checks. Colby got a couple of hundred for a retaining fee and gleefully informed us it was more money than he had ever owned at one time in all his previous career. I think he will earn it, however.”
“Where is he now?” asked Uncle John.
“Visiting all the newspaper offices, to ‘buy white space,’ as he put it. In other words, Colby will bribe the press to silence, at least until the case develops.”
“I’m glad of that,” exclaimed Beth. “What do you think of this queer business, Arthur?”
“Why, I’ve no doubt of the boy’s innocence, if that is what you mean. I’ve watched him closely and am positive he is no more Jack Andrews than I am. But I fear he will have a hard task to satisfy the judge that he is falsely accused. It would be an admission of error, you see, and so the judge will prefer to find him guilty. It is this same judge — Wilton, I think his name is — who will conduct the formal examination, and to-day he openly sneered at the mention of Sangoa. On the other hand, he evidently believed every statement made by Le Drieux about the identity of the pearls found in Jones’ possession. Le Drieux has a printed list of the Ahmberg pearls, and was able to check the Jones’ pearls off this list with a fair degree of accuracy. It astonished even me, and I could see that Jones was equally amazed.”
“Wouldn’t it be queer if they convicted him!” exclaimed Beth.
“It would be dreadful, since he is innocent,” said Patsy.
“There is no need to worry about that just at present,” Arthur assured them. “I am placing a great deal of confidence in the ability of Lawyer Colby.”
CHAPTER XVIII
DOUBTS AND DIFFICULTIES
The Stanton girls and Mrs. Montrose came in early that afternoon. They had heard rumors of the arrest of Jones and were eager to learn what had occurred. Patsy and Beth followed them to their rooms to give them every known detail and canvass the situation in all its phases.
“Goldstein has been an angel all afternoon,” said Flo. “He grinned and capered about like a schoolboy and some of us guessed he’d been left a fortune.”
“He ought to be ashamed of himself.” Patsy indignantly asserted. “The man admitted to Uncle John that Ajo is the biggest stockholder in the Continental, the president, to boot; yet Goldstein wouldn’t lift a finger to help him and positively refused to obey his request to go to him after he was arrested.”
“I know about that,” said Aunt Jane, quietly. “Goldstein talked to me about the affair this afternoon and declared his conviction that young Jones is really a pearl thief. He has taken a violent dislike to the boy and is delighted to think his stock will be taken away from him.”
Maud had silently listened to this dialogue as she dressed for dinner.
But now she impetuously broke into the conversation, saying:
“Something definite ought to be done for the boy. He needs intelligent assistance. I’m afraid his situation is serious.”
“That is what Arthur thinks,” said Beth. “He says that unless he can furnish proof that he is not Jack Andrews, and that he came by those pearls honestly, he will be shipped to Austria for trial. No one knows what those foreigners will do to him, but he would probably fare badly in their hands.”
“Such being the logical conclusion,” said Maud, “we must make our fight now, at the examination.”
“Uncle John has engaged a lawyer,” announced Patsy, “and if he proves bright and intelligent he ought to be able to free Ajo.”
“I’d like to see that lawyer, and take his measure,” answered Maud, musingly, and her wish was granted soon after they had finished dinner. Colby entered the hotel, jaunty as ever, and Arthur met him and introduced him to the girls.
“You must forgive me for coming on a disagreeable mission,” began the young attorney, “but I have promised the judge that I would produce all the pearls Mr. Jones gave you, not later than to-morrow morning. He wants them as evidence, and to compare privately with Le Drieux’s list, although he will likely have the expert at his elbow. So I can’t promise that you will ever get your jewels back again.”
“Oh. You think, then, that Mr. Jones is guilty?” said Maud coldly.
“No, indeed; I believe he is innocent. A lawyer should never suspect his client, you know. But to win I must prove my case, and opposed to me is that terrible Le Drieux, who insists he is never mistaken.”
“Arthur — Mr. Weldon — says you understand pearls as well as Mr. Le Drieux does,” suggested Patsy.
“I thank him; but he is in error. I chattered to the judge about pearls, it is true, because I found he couldn’t tell a pearl from a glass bead; and I believe I even perplexed Le Drieux by hinting at a broad knowledge on the subject which I do not possess. It was all a bit of bluff on my part. But by to-morrow morning this knowledge will be a fact, for I’ve bought a lot of books on pearls and intend to sit up all night reading them.”
“That was a clever idea,” said Uncle John, nodding approval.
“So my mission here this evening is to get the pearls, that I may study them as I read,” continued Colby. “Heretofore I’ve only seen the things through a plate glass window, or a show case. The success of our defense depends upon our refuting Le Drieux’s assertion that the pearls found in Jones’ possession are a part of the Countess Ahmberg’s collection. He has a full description of the stolen gems and I must be prepare
d to show that none of the Jones’ pearls is on the list.”
“Can you do that?” asked Maud.
She was gazing seriously into the young man’s eyes and this caused him to blush and stammer a little as he replied:
“I — I hope to, Miss Stanton.”
“And are you following no other line of defense?” she inquired.
He sat back and regarded the girl curiously for a moment.
“I would like you to suggest some other line of defense,” he replied.
“I’ve tried to find one — and failed.”
“Can’t you prove he is not Jack Andrews?”
“Not if the identity of the pearls is established,” said the lawyer. “If the pearls were stolen, and if Jones cannot explain how he obtained possession of them, the evidence is prima facia that he is Jack Andrews, or at least his accomplice. Moreover, his likeness to the photograph is somewhat bewildering, you must admit.”
This gloomy view made them all silent for a time, each thoughtfully considering the matter. Then Maud asked:
“Do you know the cash value of Mr. Jones’ stock in the Continental
Film Company?”
Colby shook his head, but Uncle John replied:
“Goldstein told me it is worth millions.”
“Ah!” exclaimed the girl. “There, then, is our proof.”
The lawyer reflected, with knitted brows.
“I confess I don’t quite see your point,” said he.
“How much were those stolen pearls worth?” asked the girl.
“I don’t know.”
“You know they were not worth millions. Jack Andrews was an adventurer, by Le Drieux’s showing; he was a fellow who lived by his wits and generally earned his livelihood by gambling with the scions of wealthy families. Even had he stolen the Countess’ pearls and disposed of the collection at enormous prices — which a thief is usually unable to do — he would still have been utterly unable to purchase a controlling interest in the Continental stock.”
She spoke with quiet assurance, but her statement roused the group to sudden excitement.
Complete Works of L. Frank Baum Page 516