He shook his head. Then, jumping to his feet, and pacing the floor nervously, he exclaimed angrily:
"How can one man cope with a gang of crooks or break up a well-organized System? Bascom Cooley, your uncle's lawyer, is a prominent member of the inner political ring which controls everything. He presented his petition to a judge who received his appointment from this very organization. It was a foregone conclusion what the outcome would be. Now we're no better off than before. The granting of the petition will give your uncle complete control of your fortune."
Paula looked at him blankly. This was too much. Her patience was almost exhausted. She had borne everything patiently up to now, but this new insult went too far. Tears started to her eyes, and, stamping her foot angrily, she cried:
"He shan't have my father's money to squander how and on whom he pleases! On that I'm determined. I'll give it away— I'll— Oh! surely something can be done!"
Mr. Ricaby shrugged his shoulders.
"I'm afraid not," he answered. "Your uncle is in the hands of an unscrupulous gang. He has spent money like water to break the will. His lawyers resorted to every questionable device under a loosely constructed legal jurisprudence. Where did the money come from? Your uncle didn't have it. His marriage to Mrs. Chase—an extravagant widow with an extravagant son—used up all the money he had. This is Cooley's venture—and Cooley never goes into anything unless he's sure of results."
"And they have won!" she exclaimed.
The lawyer nodded.
"They have absolute control of you—and your money——"
"Can't anything be done?" cried the young girl, wringing her hands in despair. "Can't you do something? Surely I have some rights. Can't you try?—can't you?"