“Sure.—It seems to me that there is a third method which you haven’t thought of.”
“Indeed? What is it?”
“Why not engage the services of an attorney in Vienna, instead of the consul’s? You can easily get the name of some reliable attorney there. Then write on, stating the case, and offering a sum in consideration of which he is to furnish us with the information we want.”
“Yes, I might do that,” Arthur answered, with a mortifying sense that Peixada’s plan was at once more practical and more promising than either of those which he had proposed.
“Better try it, anyhow,” his client went on. “Attorney’s fees, as I chance to know, are low in Austria. Fifty dollars ought to be ample for a starter. I’ll give you a check for that amount now. You can exchange it for a draft, after you’ve decided on your man.”
Peixada filled out a check. Arthur took up his hat.
“Oh, àpropos,” said Peixada, without explaining what it was àpropos of, “I showed you some newspaper clippings about Mrs. P.’. trial the other day—recollect? Well, I’ve got a scrapbook full of them in my safe. Suppose you’d find it useful?”
“I don’t know. It could do no harm for me to run it over.”
Peixada touched a bell, gave the requisite orders to the underling who responded, and said to Arthur, “He’ll fetch it.”
Presently the man returned, bearing a large, square volume, bound in bluish black leather. Arthur bowed himself out, with the volume under his arm.