was rumpled, and he wore a cross and dissatisfied expression; he held by its bowl the new meerschaum pipe Elizabeth had sent him, and waved its long stem at Marriott and Dick, as he waved it scepter-like in ruling his household.
"My name is Marriott, Mr. Koerner, and this is Mr. Ward, Miss Elizabeth's brother. She said you wished to see me."
"You gom', huh?" said Koerner, fixing Marriott with his little blue eyes.
"Yes, I'm here at last," said Marriott. "Did you think I was never going to get here?" He drew up a chair and sat down. Dick took another chair, but leaned back and glanced about the room, as if to testify to his capacity of mere spectator. Mrs. Koerner stood beside her husband and folded her arms. The two children, hidden in their mother's skirts, cautiously emerged, a bit at a time, as it were, until they stood staring with wide, curious blue eyes at Marriott.
"You bin a lawyer, yet, huh?" asked Koerner severely.
"Yes, I'm a lawyer. Miss Ward said you wished to see a lawyer."
"I've blenty lawyers alreadty," said Koerner. "Der bin more as a dozen hier." He waved his pipe at the clock-shelf, where a little stack of professional cards told how many lawyers had solicited Koerner as a client. Marriott could have told the names of the lawyers without looking at their cards.
"Have you retained any of them?" asked Marriott.
"Huh?" asked Koerner, scowling.
"Did you hire any of them?"
"No, I tell 'em all to go to hell."
"That's where most of them are going," said Marriott.
But Koerner did not see the joke.
"How's your injury?" asked Marriott.
Koerner winced perceptibly at Marriott's mere glance at his amputated leg, and stretched the pipe-stem over it as if in protection.
"He's hurt like hell," he said.
"Why, hasn't the pain left yet?" asked Marriott in surprise.
"No, I got der rheumatiz' in dot foot," he pointed with his pipe-stem at the vacancy where the foot used to be.
"That foot!" exclaimed Marriott.
"Bess told us of that," Dick put in. "It gave her the willies."
"Well, I should think so," said Marriott.
Koerner looked from one to the other of the two young men.
"That's funny, Mr. Koerner," said Marriott, "that foot's cut off."
"I wish der tamn doctors cut off der rheumatiz' der same time! Dey cut off der foot all right, but dey leave der rheumatiz'." He turned the long stem of his pipe to his lips and puffed at it, and looked at the leg as if he were taking up a problem he was working on daily.
"Well, now, Mr. Koerner," said Marriott presently, "tell me how it happened and I'll see if I can help you."
Koerner, just on the point of placing his pipe-stem between his long, loose, yellow teeth, stopped and looked intently at Marriott. Marriott saw at once from his expression that he had once more to contend with the suspicion the poor always feel when dealing with a lawyer.
"So you been Mr. Marriott, huh?" asked Koerner.
"Yes, I'm Marriott."
"Der lawyer?"
"Yes, the lawyer."
"You der one vot Miss Ward sent alreadty, aind't it?"
"Yes, I'm the one." Marriott smiled, and then, thinking suddenly of an incontrovertible argument, he waved his hand at Dick. "This is her brother. She sent him to bring me here."
The old man looked at Dick, and then turned to Marriott again.
"How much you goin' charge me, huh?" His little hard blue eyes were almost closed.
"Oh, if I don't get any damages for you, I won't charge you anything."
The old man made him repeat this several times, and when at last he understood, he seemed relieved and pleased. And then he wished to know what the fee would be in the event of success.
"Oh," said Marriott, "how would one-fifth do?"
Koerner, when he grasped the idea of the percentage, was satisfied; the other lawyers who had come to see him had all demanded a contingent fee of one-third or one-half. When the long bargaining was done and explained to Mrs. Koerner, who sat watchfully by trying to follow the conversation, and when Marriott had said that he would draw up a contract for them to sign and bring it when he came again, the old man was ready to go on with his story. But before he did so he paused with his immeasurable German patience to fill his pipe, and, when he had lighted it, he began.
"Vell, Mr. Marriott, ven I gom' on dis gountry, I go to vork for dot railroadt; I vork dere ever since–dot's t'irty-seven year now alreadty." He paused and puffed, and slowly winked his eyes as he contemplated those thirty-seven years of toil. "I vork at first for t'irty tollar a month, den von day Mister Greene, dot's der suberintendent in dose tays, he call me in, undt he say, 'Koerner, you can read?' I say I read English some, undt he say, 'Vell, read dot,' undt he handt me a telegram. Vell I read him–it say dot Greene can raise der vages of his vatchman to forty tollar a month. Vell, I handt him der telegram back undt I say, 'I could read two t'ree more like dot, Mister Greene.' He laugh den undt he say, 'Vell, you read dot von twicet.' Vell, I got forty tollar a month den; undt in ten year dey raise me oncet again to forty-five. That's purty goodt, I t'ink." The old man paused in this retrospect of good fortune. "Vell," he went on, "I vork along, undt dey buildt der new shops, undt I vork like a dog getting dose t'ings moved, but after dey get all moved, he calls me in von tay, undt he say my vages vould be reduced to forty tollar a month. Vell, I gan't help dot–I haind't got no other chob. Den, vell, I vork along all right, but der town get bigger, an' der roadt got bigger, an' dere's so many men dere at night dey don't need me much longer. Undt Mr. Greene–he's lost his chob, too, undt Mr. Churchill–he's der new suberintendent–he's cut ever't'ing down, undt after he gom' eferbody vork longer undt get hell besides. He cut me down to vere I vas at der first blace–t'irty tollar a month. So!"
The old man turned out his palms; and his face wrinkled into a strange grimace that expressed his enforced submission to this fate. And he smoked on until Marriott roused him.
"Vell," he said, "dot night it snows, undt I start home again at five o'clock. It's dark undt the snow fly so I gan't hardly see der svitch lights. But I gom' across der tracks yust like I always do goming home–dot's the shortest way I gom', you know–undt I ben purty tired, undt my tamned old rheumatiz' he's raisin' hell for t'ree days because dot storm's comin'–vell, I gom' along beside dere segond track over dere, undt I see an engine, but he's goin' on dot main track, so I gets over–vell, de snow's fallin' undt I gan't see very well, undt somehow dot svitch-engine gom' over on der segond track, undt I chump to get away, but my foot he's caught in der frog–vell, I gan't move, but I bent vay over to one side–so"–the old man strained himself over the arm of his chair to illustrate–"undt der svitch-engine yust cut off my foot nice undt glean. Vell, dot's all der was aboudt it."
Marriott gave a little shudder; in a flash he had a vision of Koerner there in the wide switch-yard with its bewildering red and green lights, the snow filling the air, the gloom of the winter twilight, his foot fast in the frog, bending far over to save his body, awaiting the switch-engine as it came stealing swiftly down on him.
"Did the engine whistle or ring its bell?"
"No," said the old man.
"And the frog–that was unblocked?"
Koerner leaned toward Marriott with a cunning smile.
"Dot's vere I got 'em, aind't it? Dot frog he's not blocked dere dot time; der law say dey block dose frog all der time, huh?"
"Yes, the frog must be blocked. But how did your foot get caught in the frog?"
"Vell, I shlipped, dot's it. I gan't see dot frog. You ask Charlie Drake; he's dere–he seen it."
"What does he do?" asked Marriott as he scribbled the name on an old envelope.
"He's a svitchman in der