“Positively—when he paid your fare to this country he committed a criminal offense, if we want to look at it that way—and when it comes to a show-down that is the way we look at it. He has a year of imprisonment staring him in the face. I believe it will be well worth his while to pay you to keep quiet.”
“Yes”—replied Grace, thinking of Carl’s eagerness to get to Sana, “I think he would.”
“Well then, do you want me to take your case?”
“Of course”—responded Grace. “Why do you ask?”
“You know, without doubt, that the profession cannot handle cases of this sort without a retainer being paid in advance.”
“Oh, I see—what retainer would you like?”
“One thousand dollars. As soon as you pay it, I shall proceed against Mr. Lohman. There will be no notoriety attached; simply a case of making him come across on the quiet.”
“But I haven’t a thousand dollars,” Grace objected faintly.
“No? Then I’m sorry that I cannot be of assistance to you.”
Grace had had visions of fur coats and luxurious gowns, purchased with the gold she and her attorney would squeeze from Carl. Blackmail, you may call it if you wish—but the nastiness of the name means nothing in the life of a “gold digger.” Now those fanciful dreams were fading from sight, just because she did not happen to have a paltry thousand dollars with which to satisfy the greed of the lawyer. She called it greed, as she sat there, trying to find a way out of the quandary, giving no thought to the fact that even “gold diggers” are often “played” for all they are worth.