ad served Jackson right for getting such a lawyer. But
the next moment two of Ernest's statements came flashing into my
consciousness: "The company employs very efficient lawyers" and "Colonel
Ingram is a shrewd lawyer." I did some rapid thinking. It dawned upon me
that of course the company could afford finer legal talent than could a
workingman like Jackson. But this was merely a minor detail. There was
some very good reason, I was sure, why Jackson's case had gone against
him.

"Why did you lose the case?" I asked.

The lawyer was perplexed and worried for a moment, and I found it in my
heart to pity the wretched little creature. Then he began to whine. I
do believe his whine was congenital. He was a man beaten at birth. He
whined about the testimony. The witnesses had given only the evidence
that helped the other side. Not one word could he get out of them that
would have helped Jackson. They knew which side their bread was buttered
on. Jackson was a fool. He had been brow-beaten and confused by Colonel
Ingram. Colonel Ingram was brilliant at cross-examination. He had made
Jackson answer damaging questions.

"How could his answers be damaging if he had the right on his side?" I
demanded.

"What's right got to do with it?" he demanded back. "You see all those
books." He moved his hand over the array of volumes on the walls of his
tiny office. "All my reading and studying of them has taught me that
law is one thing and right is another thing. Ask any lawyer. You go to
Sunday-school to learn what is right. But you go to those books to learn
. . . law."

"Do you mean to tell me that Jackson had the right on his side and yet
was beaten?" I queried tentatively. "Do you mean to tell me that there
is no justice in Judge Caldwell's court?"

The little lawyer glared at me a moment, and then the belligerence faded
out of his face.

"I hadn't a fair chance," he began whining again. "They made a fool out
of Jackson and out of me, too. What chance had I? Colonel Ingram is
a great lawyer. If he wasn't great, would he have charge of the law
business of the Sierra Mills, of the Erston Land Syndicate, of the
Berkeley Consolidated, of the Oakland, San Leandro, and Pleasanton
Electric? He's a corporation lawyer, and corporation lawyers are not
paid for being fools.* What do you think the Sierra Mills alone give him
twenty thousand dollars a year for? Because he's worth twenty thousand
dollars a year to them, that's what for. I