"Anyhow, she's away off in Russia." 

 "I don't want you to confess a crime you haven't come to me about," said Loeb, adding with peculiar emphasis:  "Of course, if we KNEW you were still married to the Mrs. Feuerstein of seven years ago we couldn't take the present case. As it is—the best way is to bluff the old brewer. He doesn't want publicity; neither do you. But you know he doesn't, and he doesn't know that you love quiet." 

 "Ganser treated me infamously. He must sweat for it. I'm nothing if not a good hater." 

 "No doubt," said Loeb dryly.  "And you have rights which the law safeguards." 

 "What shall I do?" 

 "Leave that to us. How much do you want—how much damages?" 

 "He ought to pay at least twenty-five thousand." 

 Loeb shrugged his shoulders.  "Ridiculous!" he said. "Possibly the five without the twenty. And how do you expect to pay us?" 

 "I'm somewhat pressed just at the moment. But I thought"—Feuerstein halted. 

 "That we'd take the case as a speculation? Well, to oblige an old client, we will. But you must agree to give us all we can get over and above five thousand—half what we get if it's below that." 

 "Those are hard terms," remonstrated Feuerstein. The more he had thought on his case, the larger his expectations had become. 

 "Very generous terms, in the circumstances. You can take it or leave it." 

 "I can't do anything without you. I accept." 

 "Very well."  Loeb took up his pen, as if he were done with Feuerstein, but went on:  "And you're SURE that the—the FORMER Mrs. Feuerstein is divorced—and won't turn up?" 

 "Absolutely. She swore she'd never enter any country where I was." 

 "Has she any friends who are likely to hear of this?" 

 "She knew no one here." 

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