had had considerable work done upon the case, and would have
the papers sent round. And when Montague reached his office that
morning, he found them there. There was a package of several thousand
pages; and upon examining them, he found to his utter consternation
that they contained a complete bill of complaint, with all the
necessary references and citations, and a preliminary draught of a
brief--in short, a complete and thoroughgoing preparation of his case.
There could not have been less than ten or fifteen thousand dollars'
worth of work in the papers; and Montague sat quite aghast, turning
over the neatly typewritten sheets. He could indeed afford to attend
Christmas house parties, if all his clients were to treat him like this!

He felt a little piqued about it--for he had noted some of these points
for himself, and felt a little proud about them. Apparently he was to
be nothing but a figure-head in the case! And he turned to the phone
and called up Mr. Hasbrook, and asked him what he expected him to do
with these papers. There was the whole case here; and was he simply to
take them as they stood?

No one could have replied more considerately than did Mr. Hasbrook. The
papers were for Montague's benefit--he would do exactly as he pleased
with them. He might use them as they stood, or reject them altogether,
or make them the basis for his own work--anything that appealed to his
judgment would be satisfactory. And so Montague turned about and wrote
an acceptance to the formal invitation which had come from the Eldridge
Devons.

Later on in the day Oliver called up, and said that he was to go out to
dinner the following evening, and that he would call for him at eight.
"It's with the Jack Evanses," Oliver added. "Do you know them?"

Montague had heard the name, as that of the president of a chain of
Western railroads. "Do you mean him?" he asked.

"Yes," said the other. "They're a rum crowd, but there's money in it.
I'll call early and explain it to you."

But it was explained sooner than that. During the next afternoon
Montague had a caller--none other than Mrs. Winnie Duval. Some one had
left Mrs. Winnie some more money, it appeared; and there was a lot of
red tape attached to it, which she wanted the new lawyer to attend to.
Also, she said, she hoped that he would charge her a lot of money by
way of encouraging himself. It was a mere bagatelle of a hundred
thousand or so, from some forgotten aunt in the Wes