“Peixada.—If Mrs. Judith Peixada, née Karon, widow of Bernard Peixada, Esquire, deceased, will communicate with her brother-in-law, Benjamin Peixada, No.—— Reade Street, New York, she will confer a favor,“ was what Arthur had written.
“This,” he added verbally, “will be quite as likely to fetch her as the other. Its very frankness will disarm suspicion. Besides, it’s not such an out-and-out piece of treachery.”
“What do you think, Mr. Peixada?” inquired Romer.
“Oh, I think she’d sooner cut her thumbs off than do me a favor. But I leave the decision with you lawyers.”
“I may as well repeat,” volunteered Arthur, “that in the event of your employing the form Mr. Romer drew, I shall withdraw from the case.”
“Well,” said Romer, “I’m not sure Ripley isn’t right. At any rate, no harm giving his way a trial. If it should fail to attract our game, we can use sweeter bait later on. Who’ll see to its insertion?”
“I shall have to beg you to do that,” said Arthur, “because to-morrow I’m going out of town—to stay about a fortnight. I shall be on deck again two weeks from Monday—August 11th. Meanwhile, here’s my country address. Telegraph me, if any thing turns up.”
Telling the story of his morning’s work to Hetzel, he concluded thus, “I suppose it was a legitimate enough stratagem—one that few lawyers would stop at—but, all the same, I feel like a sneak. I should like to kick myself.”
Hetzel responded, cheeringly, “You’ve made your own bed, and now you’ve got to lie in it. You ought to have observed these little drawbacks to the beauty of Themis, before you dedicated yourself to her service.”
Next day in Mrs. Hart’s parlor, Arthur Ripley and Ruth Lehmyl were married. Besides themselves and the clergyman who tied the knot, the only persons present were Arthur’s mother, Mrs. Hart, Julian Hetzel, and a certain Mr. Arthur Flint.