Bascom Cooley had not overestimated his abilities or the extent of his pull. He had not, indeed, been successful in his efforts to have the new will set aside. There are some things which not even crooked lawyers, with all their cunning and underhand methods, are unable to do. Even his perjured witnesses could not disprove the fact that John Marsh was legally married to Paula's mother, and that he was of sound mind when he made the second will. Backed by all the influence of the System, he could not prevent Paula from inheriting what was naturally and legally hers. Yet, thanks to the mysterious and powerful support behind him, he did manage to score in one important point. He was able to manipulate the legal wires in such a way that Paula, after the Court decision rendered in her favor, found herself no better off than she was before. Being a minor, she could not touch her inheritance. The appointment of a guardian was necessary, and Bascom Cooley, after much secret and underhand manoeuvring, finally persuaded a judge to appoint the girl's uncle special administrator until she could come of age. It was clearly unconstitutional and at once evoked protest from Paula's attorney. But to no purpose. The court's order was peremptory. An appeal to a higher court would mean more endless and expensive litigation. The best plan, perhaps, was to wait patiently the one short year and then demand a strict accounting. At least, so argued Mr. Ricaby.

Bascom Cooley now had things going his way. Jimmy, his poor, weak tool, was in sole control of the Marsh millions. For twelve months he could do what he liked with the money. Much can be accomplished in a year—money can be made, money can be lost. If, when the day of accounting came, there was a scandal, Jimmy alone would be held responsible, and as for denouncing others as having shared in the division of the spoils, he would not dare. Cooley knew too much of his business for that.

The next important step was to control, as far as possible, the movements of the ward herself. It would never do to have her living in a cheap boarding house, going and coming as she pleased, surrounded by people who might tell her embarrassing truths. The influence of Leon Ricaby, especially, Mr. Cooley was anxious to remove. He felt that with the attorney out of the way, they would have less trouble with the girl. That is why he had impressed Jimmy with the urgent necessity of taking Paula as a more or less unwilling boarder under his roof.

"She'll kick like a steer," he growled. "But that's nothing. I like a gal with some spirit in her. She must do what we say, whether she likes it or not."

Overbearing, brutal, defiant, Mr. Cooley entered the sitting room of Mrs. Parkes' boarding house, followed meekly by Jimmy Marsh. Fashionably dressed, dyed and perfumed, Paula's uncle, in personal appearance, offered a sharp contrast to the burly, coarse-looking lawyer. The two men were types so utterly dissimilar that it was almost paradoxical to find them in such close association. It was as if the lamb suddenly found it to his taste to consort with the wolf. While the lawyer advanced into the room, his air arrogant, his manner insolent, Jimmy remained in the background, nervous and fidgetty. That he was completely under the mental control of his attorney was plainly evident.

Mr. Ricaby was alone in the room, awaiting their arrival.

"Hallo, Ricaby—howdy?" exclaimed the big lawyer. "You know Mr. Marsh——"

Jimmy nodded and Mr. Ricaby bowed stiffly. His manner was freezingly polite.

"Yes, I think I have that pleasure."

Without troubling to wait for an invitation, Mr. Cooley flopped his large person into an armchair. Then, looking all around as if in search of someone, he asked:

"Well, where's the young lady?"

"She'll be here in a moment," replied Mr. Ricaby. There was an awkward pause, and then he went on: "I need scarcely tell you that this sudden visit is most unexpected."

The big lawyer gave a coarse laugh.

"Always expect the unexpected from Bascom Cooley!" he cried. "Sit down, Mr. Marsh. Yes, Mr. Ricaby, Bascom Cooley aims at a certain point, but he never looks in the direction he's aiming, and while the other side is carefully guarding the wrong place—bing!—Bascom Cooley's got 'em where he wants 'em."

Mr. Ricaby nodded.

"Quite so!" he said, with a shade of irony.

Mr. Cooley grinned.

"That's why the aforesaid is in a class all by himself," he chuckled.

Mr. Marsh ventured to obtrude himself into the conversation. Timidly he said:

"Perhaps my niece may find the hour inconvenient. I'm perfectly willing to postpone——"

Mr. Cooley stamped his foot impatiently.

"Now, look here, Marsh, don't be a fool; don't establish a precedent of meekness, or you'll have to be meek all the time. That's the advice I give young married men, Ricaby."

He laughed boisterously at his own wit, and looked at Mr. Ricaby as if expecting him to join in the merriment. But Paula's attorney remained sober as a judge.

"Come, come, be cheerful!" went on Mr. Cooley; "why not let us be good friends? Why can't Miss Paula be made to understand that my client is her friend as well as her nearest relative? Flesh and blood is flesh and blood—you can't get away from that fact. He wants to open his heart to her. Hang it, they've been separated long enough! All his movements, however seemingly unfriendly, have been actuated only by a sense of justice to his own family."

"Perfectly true—perfectly true," broke in Jimmy eagerly. "She is my brother's child, and, although we've seen nothing of her, nevertheless I feel that I am far more competent to—to take charge of—the family estate—than she is."

"The family estate?" interrupted Mr. Ricaby, elevating his eyebrows.

"Yes," said Jimmy boldly. "My brother's estate and mine. You know, the woman he married——"

Cooley held up his hand with a deprecating gesture:

"Now, please, don't let us go into that phase of the matter. The marriage was kept secret, but we have conceded that it was a marriage. Once and for all, let us have done with this litigation business. My client doesn't want to drag this case through the courts for years. He can if he wants to—but he doesn't. What he wants is—peace and harmony."

"And his brother's estate," interrupted Mr. Ricaby sarcastically.

Mr. Cooley looked aggrieved.

"Ricaby," he said, "that insinuation is not in keeping with the friendly purpose of this meeting. My client is special administrator—an appointee of the Court—and we are acting under the law——"

"The law!" exclaimed Mr. Ricaby scornfully. "That's the damnable part of it! You're acting under a law that compels a widow or orphan to spend thousands of dollars on litigation in order to obtain what is theirs by right."

Mr. Cooley shrugged his shoulders.

"The law is all right."

"Then it's dishonest interpretation that's at fault," retorted the other hotly. "Something is rotten somewhere when the courts can be used to legally deprive this girl of her inheritance."

Mr. Cooley rolled his eyes and remained unperturbed. Suavely, glibly, he said:

"You're repeating yourself, brother Ricaby. So you told the judge, and it didn't do your case a particle of good. That's a sign of weakness. But come, I promised myself not to allow anything to interrupt the peaceful, harmonious flow of events." With an effort at flowery rhetoric, he went on pompously: "Let us bury the legal axe, let's bring flesh and blood together, that they may be reunited over the grave of a buried family feud. Let us bring our clients together on terms of peace. It's a sacred duty we owe our profession, Mr. Ricaby, a duty that exalts our profession over all other callings. The ministry may make peace for man in Heaven, but we are peacemakers here on earth."

"Quite true—quite true," chirped Jimmy from the far corner of the room.

Mr. Ricaby shrugged his shoulders.

"No wonder they call you the silver-lipped orator," he muttered contemptuously.

There was a knock at the door, and Mr. Ricaby went forward to see who it was. Speaking to someone in the hall outside, he said:

"My clerk? Oh, yes, ask him to come up. No—I'll go down." Turning to the others, he asked:

"Will you excuse me for a moment?"

"Certainly," said Mr. Cooley, "and, while I think of it, do your best to persuade Miss Paula that we are really acting for her best interests. She is alone in the world. Her uncle will take her into his own family, welcome her as his own child."

Mr. Ricaby, with an impatient shrug of his shoulders, went out without waiting to listen to any more. Mr. Cooley, who had not noticed the attorney's departure, went on:

"Can't you see the picture, Ricaby? Uncle—niece—bosom of family—happy home—cousins—smiling faces—all radiant with newly found happiness?"

Suddenly he noticed that Ricaby was no longer there. Turning to Jimmy, he exclaimed, in a changed tone of voice:

"You know that fellow is the damndest bore I was ever up against! His arguments to the judge were puerile—positively puerile! That one about the ethical aspect was a bird. You know it's all I can do to keep my temper with that brand of practitioner."

Jimmy nodded approval.

"You've been remarkably patient—remarkably," he said.

Mr. Cooley's face broke into a self-satisfied smile.

"Those fellows theorize and theorize by the yard. I've sat on the bench and listened to their cackle till I got so hot under the collar I'd like to jump down and bang 'em over the head with their own law books. They quote authorities by the stack and hand you all the old-time stuff from old Roman and British digest down to last year's decision. Those fellows forget that Henry Clay and Daniel Webster oratory is out of date. Marsh—while I think of it—don't make too much show of affection to the girl—not too much 'Uncle' business at the start, she may not take to it kindly."

"Of course, of course," said Jimmy impatiently. "I'm not exactly a fool."

"Not exactly—no—but sometimes perilously near," retorted Cooley dryly.

"My dear Cooley——"

"Now, my dear James, you must really be guided by me——"

"But there are limits," said the other.

"Quite so," acquiesced the lawyer, "and I apologize for not observing them, but I really can't allow you to lose control of your brother John's fortune without at least making the effort to guide you properly."

"No, of course not," muttered his vis-À-vis. "God knows how I should ever pay your fees if I did——"

The lawyer opened wide his eyes as if he did not quite comprehend.

"Pay my fees? Why, my dear Marsh, I don't want to be paid fees——"

"No?"

"You don't suppose I'm working for mere fees, do you? I'll tell you what I'm after when we get control of the estate."

"We?" echoed Jimmy interrogatively.

"Oui—oui"—snapped Cooley. "That's French for 'yes.' Do you imagine that Bascom Cooley intends to desert you after the battle is won? No—no—he will help you handle your victory."

"Quite so—quite so," nodded Jimmy vacuously, "but at the same time——"

"There is no same time," snapped Mr. Cooley; "you take your tempo from me." Holding up his hand he demonstrated with his fingers: "Move number 1—give her a regular allowance and regulate all expenditure. Move number 2—turn all her father's investments into cash. Move number 3—reinvest the cash, so that we can handle the profits."

"But suppose she—she refuses?" demanded the other.

"She won't. She daren't. If she does"— He hesitated as if unwilling to give expression to his secret thoughts, even to Jimmy—"we'll put her where she can't refuse."

"Put her where she can't refuse?" echoed his client, puzzled. "I don't understand."

The lawyer put his finger warningly to his lips.

"Hush!" he whispered, "I've got it all planned out. There isn't one chance in a thousand for us to miss fire, but you must follow—not lead. Bascom Cooley has never lost a case. He can't lose a case. Why, Marsh, I'll take either side of this case and win."

"What colossal confidence!" cried Jimmy admiringly.

Mr. Cooley looked around as if to make sure that there were no eavesdroppers. His manner became very serious and determined.

"That's the whole secret, Jimmy," he said. "Believe in yourself and that flock of sheep we call the world will follow you. The power to be is only the power to will. Whatever I will—happens, and that is a very valuable political asset. Why, I can take a rank outsider at a crowded caucus—over the heads of all the regular nominees—nominate him and jam him through to the front. I've done it—they can't resist me. When I say 'yes,' by God! it's yes! It's got to be 'yes.' Your claim wasn't worth a button when you first came to me. Well, what do you think of your chances now? You wouldn't take ninety cents on the dollar for it, would you? Well, I guess not!"

The door opened and Mr. Ricaby reappeared with a bag in his hand. He seemed surprised to see the two men still alone. Looking around, he exclaimed:

"Isn't Miss Marsh here yet?"

"No," said Cooley, with a covert sneer, "the young lady is taking her time——"

Jimmy made an effort to put on an air of offended dignity.

"My niece is perhaps unaware," he said loftily, "that Mr. Cooley is waiting. I don't mind for myself——"

Mr. Ricaby was about to leave the room to investigate, when suddenly the door of the bedroom on the right opened and Paula appeared. Her face was pale, but she was cool and self-composed. The girl's manner gave little indication of the agitation within. These men who had come to see her against her will, she feared and abhorred. That they were her mortal enemies instinct told her, that they would stop at nothing to gain their ends, she had every reason to believe. This new proposal sugar-coated as it was with proffers of friendliness, could only cloak some sinister, covert design. She would have liked to communicate her fears to Mr. Ricaby, but this unexpected visit had so taken her by surprise that there was no opportunity. But she would be on her guard. They should get nothing from her.

"Thank God!" she murmured to herself, "this is a free country. They may annoy me, but they can do me no bodily harm."

As she came in the two men arose, Jimmy feeling more and more uncomfortable, Mr. Cooley beaming with smiles, Mr. Ricaby anxious.

"Miss Marsh," began Mr. Ricaby, "these two gentlemen—er——"

Paula advanced and bowed distantly.

"Yes—I know—Mr. James Marsh and—Mr. Cooley."

"Will you—er—sit down—Paula?" stammered her uncle.

"Thank you—no," replied Paula, with quiet dignity. "I—I prefer to stand." Significantly she added: "It won't take us very long to say what we have to say."

Jimmy muttered something under his breath, and Mr. Cooley got ready for action. Taking the floor, he began pompously:

"Miss Paula, your uncle wants you to—— It is his earnest desire that bygones—bygones—and that the past be forgotten."

"We're not in court now, Mr. Cooley," answered the girl quickly. "If my uncle has anything to say to me I prefer to hear it directly from him. He does not need an attorney."

The lawyer shrugged his massive shoulders and sat down.

"Oh, just as you please," he said.

Jimmy came forward.

"Of course, of course," he said quickly. "I want you to—to come home—Paula. Your aunt also wishes you to come—she is eager to welcome you——"

Paula's face did not change its expression. She had made up her mind. Nothing could shake her from that determination. Still, it was perhaps just as well to find out just what the other side had to propose. Calmly she said:

"That much I understand, but I want to know exactly what you expect of me so that there may be no misunderstanding in the future. What is my exact position according to your idea——"

"Your position——" stammered Jimmy.

"Yes," she insisted. "My position in regard to my father's property? In other words, what are your demands?"

Mr. Ricaby interfered.

"Mr. Marsh—I think she means——"

Paula raised her hand as if she did not need any assistance.

"Mr. Ricaby, I wish to know from Mr. Marsh himself exactly what he expects of me."

"What we expect?" stammered Jimmy.

This was a question he was unprepared for. He looked at Paula helplessly and then turned to Mr. Cooley. There was a hurried whispering, during which time Paula and her attorney stood waiting. Finally Jimmy came forward:

"You will come and live with us, of course?" he said.

"Yes," she replied, with a careless nod.

"Yes, as our own child, Paula," he went on eagerly.

"Oh, yes," she repeated.

"You will have a regular allowance from the estate," continued her uncle.

"Yes."

"You will be your own mistress. That is—er—you will come and go as you please, of course. But I think it best that we—that is, your aunt—select such companions for you as—er—we deem advisable."

"To safeguard my morals, I presume?"

"No, no; just a—a social precaution. Perhaps it won't be necessary. I don't insist on it. It just occurred to me, that's all. Of course we shall be guided by your own desires, but as your uncle and guardian I reserve the right to decide what is best for your social welfare."

"What about my debts?"

"Your debts?"

He looked helplessly at Mr. Cooley. The big lawyer guffawed, and said promptly:

"They will be paid out of the estate."

"My counsel fees are very large," went on Paula. "I owe Mr. Ricaby an enormous sum."

"We'll examine his accounts carefully and decide," echoed Jimmy.

"No," said Paula decisively, "his accounts will not be examined carefully. They will be paid without question—and without delay."

Mr. Cooley shrugged his shoulders.

"We'll—we won't discuss that point now."

"We won't discuss that point now," echoed Jimmy. Turning to her attorney, he said: "Mr. Ricaby, you will turn over all the papers referring to this or any other matter that Miss Marsh may be interested in—as in future Mr. Cooley will be her counsel and legal adviser."

"Indeed!" cried Paula.

"Yes, my dear girl," said her uncle; "it would be rather inconvenient to have more than one legal adviser in the family. In fact, it will be impossible—quite impossible."

Paula shook her head.

"Mr. Ricaby is my friend—the only friend I have in the world," she said.

"That's rather a pity," answered Jimmy, with a feeble attempt at irony. He turned to Mr. Cooley and the lawyer shook his head. Jimmy went on:

"I am very sorry, Paula, but that doesn't alter the position. It's the one point I'm afraid I must insist on."

Paula turned to her attorney.

"Mr. Ricaby, will you kindly tell these gentlemen that our interview is at an end?"

Jimmy started forward.

"Paula! My dear niece——"

"I have nothing further to say," answered Paula coldly.

"Paula—won't you listen?"

"Please ask them to go," she repeated.

"Won't you reconsider?" cried her uncle. "I express my sincere regret for any annoyance I may have caused you."

She smiled bitterly. All the hate that she had nourished in her heart against this man was now heated to boiling point. Vehemently she burst out:

"I expect to suffer through coming in contact with a mean, mercenary nature like yours," she cried, "that's the penalty I pay for being 'your dear niece.' What I cannot understand and what I cannot forgive is your cruelty in blackening my dead father's memory—to stamp your own brother a lunatic and drunkard! Why, it's—it's horrible! Even the love of money in a degenerate age doesn't explain that. And my dead mother! Her name had to be dishonored, that I might be stamped as illegitimate. No accusation too scandalous, too shameful, or too degrading, could be made—because I had come between you and this miserable money!" Shaking her clenched fist in his face, she cried: "But you'll never get it, Uncle James, you'll never get it! You hear that, sir? You'll never get it—and, now—please go."

Mr. Cooley looked at her in silence for a moment, whispered a few words in Jimmy's ear, and then both men left the room.