inal attorney I was destined
to make my bread.

There was now no reason why Gottlieb and I should any longer conceal
our partnership, and we decided, therefore, to go into things on
a much larger scale than theretofore, and hired a suite of offices
on Centre Street, near the Tombs, where we could be within easy
reach of the majority of our clients. A sign some forty feet long
and three feet wide ran along the entire front of the building,
bearing the names Gottlieb & Quibble. Our own offices were in the
rear, the front rooms being given over to clerks, runners, and
process servers. A huge safe bought for a few dollars at an auction
stood in the entrance chamber, but we used it only as a receptacle
for coal, its real purpose being simply to impress our clients.
We kept but few papers and needed practically no books; what we
had were thrown around indiscriminately, upon chairs, tables--even
on the floor. I do not recall any particular attempt to keep the
place clean, and I am sure that the windows were never washed.
But we made money, and that was what we were out for--and we made
it every day--every hour; and as we made it we divided it up and
put it in our pockets. Our success from the start seemed in some
miraculous way to be assured, for my partner had, even before I
knew him, established a reputation as one of the keenest men at
the criminal bar.

As time went on our offices were thronged with clients of all sexes,
ages, conditions, and nationalities. The pickpocket on his way
out elbowed the gentlewoman who had an erring son and sought our
aid to restore him to grace. The politician and the actress, the
polite burglar and the Wall Street schemer, the aggrieved wife and
stout old clubman who was "being annoyed," each awaited his or her
turn to receive our opinion as to their respective needs. Good or
bad they got it. Usually it had little to do with law. Rather it
was sound, practical advice as to the best thing to be done under
the circumstances. These circumstances, as may be imagined, varied
widely. Whatever they were and however little they justified
apprehension on the part of the client we always made it a point
at the very outset to scare the latter thoroughly. "Conscience
doth make cowards of us all." But a lawyer is a close second to
conscience when it comes to coward-making; in fact, frightening
people, innocent or guilty, became to a very large extent our
regular business.

The sinners