Page:The Green Bag (1889–1914), Volume 09.pdf/290

 A Legal Incident. He lived in the most inexpensive way con sistent with decency, but economized as much as possible, the few savings which he had hoped would support him for the first year or two of his professional life were gradually exhausted, until the date of our incident finds him absolutely without a penny. The scene is his chamber at I A. M. — a room in the same building with his officebut at the rear of the structure and extend, ing back over a sort of paved court below. The building is in the business part of the city, which is generally unused for dwelling purposes; and the street and all the houses around are as quiet as the grave. There should be a moon on this night, but the sky is overcast. The weather is warm and the win dows of the room open, and the light that pene trates through them is only such as would enable one to sec objects very indistinctly. The poor young man is tossing on his couch, cursing his misfortunes and bewail ing the inexorable necessity that confronts him of closing his office and abandoning the profession of his choice. Suddenly a slight sound arrests his atten tion and a moment later a dark form has appeared at the window, leapt the sill, and presented a pistol at the head of the rest less occupant of the bed. " I am hard up," the voice of the unknown whispers hoarsely, "and I want some money from you, or you know what 'll come, and I ain't foolin' nei ther." The situation is perilous but it has its humorous side, which is quickly caught by the young lawyer. He laughs softly and says: " Help yourself, my friend, to what ever you find here. You are a vaga bond, while I am a member of the digni fied profession of the law, yet if you are poorer than I am, I shall be glad to know it. You 'll find some matches and a candle over there. Strike a light and take a look."

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Somewhat amazed at the coolness of the reply, the robber lit a stump of a candle and began his search — no money in the lawyer's only and very rusty suit of clothes which were lying on an old chair by the bed — nothing in a rickety bureau except two old shirts and a few threadbare collars and handkerchiefs — and nothing else in all the room. He stopped in disgust, put the candle on the bureau, and turned to his host who had meanwhile been sitting up in bed watching him with cynical amuse ment. "Are you hungry too as well as broke?" asked the intruder. "I spent my last copper for a roll yester day morning," was the reply. "Well, pard," said the man, " before I came roun' to see you to-night, I jest stopped in to a baker shop, what didn't have wery good fastenin's on de winder. I didn't git no money but I tuk a loaf of bread and a pie. Wait a minnit." The man disappeared over the windowsill, only to reappear in a few moments with the edibles he had mentioned. " Poverty makes strange bed-fellows," and these two men, both of whom had so far failed of their just dues at the hands of the law, sat down amicably together on the edge of the bed, and exchanged views on the existing social evils over a loaf of bread and a pie. The story, although a veracious one, is not devoid of poetical justice, as the sequel will show. The robbery at the baker shop was discovered and its perpetrator traced. The lawyer's midnight visitor was caught and held for trial. The lawyer, of course, volunteered for his defense, and cleared him in a manner that unmistakably bore witness to his own skill and ability, thus lay ing, in so unexpected a manner, the founda tion of his future eminence.