One morning Keith was sitting in his office cogitating these things. His door opened and a meek, mild little wisp of a man sidled in. He held his hat in his hand, revealing clearly sandy hair and a narrow forehead. His eyebrows and lashes were sandy, his eyes pale blue, his mouth weak but obstinate. On invitation he seated himself on the edge of the chair, and laid his hat carefully beside him on the floor.

"I am Dr. Jacob Jones," he said, blinking at Keith. "You have heard of me?"

"I am afraid I have not," said Keith pleasantly.

The little man sighed.

"I have held the City Hospital contract for three years," he explained, "and they owe me a lot of money. I thought you might collect some of it."

"I think if you'd put in a claim through the usual channels you'd receive your dues," advised Keith, somewhat puzzled. He had not heard that the city was refusing to pay legitimate claims.

"I've done that, and they've given me these," said Doctor Jones, handing Keith a bundle of papers.

Keith glanced at them.

"This is 'scrip,'" he said. "It's perfectly good. When the city is without current funds it issues this scrip, bearing interest at 3 per cent. a month. It's all right."

"Yes, I know," said the little man ineffectually, "but I don't want scrip."

Keith ran it over. It amounted to something like eleven thousand dollars.

"What do you want done about it?" he asked,

"I want you to collect the money for me."

But Keith, had recollected something.

"Just wait a minute, please," he begged, and darted across the hall to a friend's office, returning after a moment with a file of legislative reports. "I thought I'd heard something about it; here it is. The State Legislature has voted an issue of 10 per cent. bonds to take up the scrip."

"I don't understand," said Doctor Jones.

"Why, you take your scrip to the proper official and exchange it for an equal value of State bonds."

"But what good does that do me?" cried Jones excitedly. "It doesn't get me my money. They don't guarantee I can sell the bonds at par, do they? And answer me this: isn't it just a scheme to cheat me of my interest? As I understand it, instead of 3 per cent. a month I'm to get 10 per cent. a year?"

"That's the effect," corroborated Keith.

"Well, I don't want bonds, I want money, as is my due."

"Wait a minute," said Keith. He read the report again slowly. "This says that holders of scrip _may_ exchange, for bonds; it does not say they _must_ exchange," he said finally. "If that interpretation is made of the law, suit and judgment would lie against the city. Do you want to try that?"

"Of course I want to try it!" cried Jones.

"Well, bring me your contract and vouchers, and any other papers to do with the case, and I'll see what can be done."

"I have them right here," said Doctor Jones.

This, as Keith's first case, interested him more than its intrinsic worth warranted. It amused him to bring all his powers to bear, fighting strongly for the technical point, and finally establishing it in court. In spite of the evident intention of the Legislature that city scrip should be retired in favour of bonds, it was ruled that the word _may_ in place of the word _must_ practically nullified that intention. Judgment was obtained against the city for eleven thousand dollars, and the sheriff was formally instructed to sell certain water-front lots in order to satisfy that judgment. The sale was duly advertised in the papers.

Next morning, after the first insertion of this advertisement, Keith had three more callers. These were men of importance: namely, John Geary, the first postmaster and last _alcalde_ of the new city; William Hooper, and James King of William, at that time still a banker. These were grave, solid, and weighty citizens, plainly dressed, earnest, and forceful. They responded politely but formally to Keith's salute, and seated themselves.

"You were, I understand, counsel for Doctor Jones ............