"You are Phineas C. Gooch, attorney-at-law?" said the visitor, his
tone of voice and inflection making his words at once a question, an
assertion and an accusation.
Before committing himself by a reply, the lawyer estimated his
possible client in one of his brief but shrewd and calculating
glances.
The man was of the emphatic type--large-sized, active, bold and
debonair in demeanour, vain beyond a doubt, slightly swaggering, ready
and at ease. He was well-clothed, but with a shade too much
ornateness. He was seeking a lawyer; but if that fact would seem to
saddle him with troubles they were not patent in his beaming eye and
courageous air.
"My name is Gooch," at length the lawyer admitted. Upon pressure he
would also have confessed to the Phineas C. But he did not consider it
good practice to volunteer information. "I did not receive your
card," he continued, by way of rebuke, "so I--"
"I know you didn't," remarked the visitor, coolly; "And you won't just
yet. Light up?" He threw a leg over an arm of his chair, and tossed
a handful of rich-hued cigars upon the table. Lawyer Gooch knew the
brand. He thawed just enough to accept the invitation to smoke.
"You are a divorce lawyer," said the cardless visitor. This time there
was no interrogation in his voice.
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