The divorce lawyer devotes himself to this branch of his profession almost exclusively. He is sometimes an ex-member of the Bar, who has been disbarred for dishonest practices, and cannot appear directly in the case himself. He hires some shyster lawyer to go through the formalities of the courts for him, and sometimes succeeds in inducing a lawyer of good standing to act for him. His office is usually in the quarter most frequented to by practitioners of standing, and is located in some large building, so that his clients may come and go without attracting special notice. The outer office is fitted up in regular legal style, with substantial desks and tables, and the walls are lined with cases of law books. The private consultation room is elegantly furnished, and is provided with the coziest arm-chairs, in which the clients can sit at their ease, and pour into the sympathizing ears of the “counsellor” their tales of woe.
Let us seat ourselves, unseen, in the private office of a leading divorce firm. They are located in a superb building on La Salle street and have elegantly fitted up apartments. Counsellor ——, the head of the firm, conducts the consultations. He is a portly, smooth-faced, oily-tongued man, possessing great powers of cheek and plausiveness, just the man to lead a hesitating client to take the decisive step. A clerk from the outer office announces a visitor. A richly dressed, closely veiled lady is shown in and the portly counsellor, rising courteously, places a chair for her. The seat is taken, the veil thrown back, and the counsellor finds himself face to face with a woman of beauty and refinement, and evidently of wealth—a most desirable client. In his blandest tones he invites her to state the nature of her business with him. Then follows a long tale of domestic unhappiness, the sum and substance of which is that she is tired of her husband and wants a divorce from him.
“Upon what grounds, Madam?” asks the counsellor, settling down to business.
“Grounds?” is the startled, hesitating reply. “Why—t—hat is—I am so unhappy with him.”
“Is he unfaithful to you?”
“I do not know. I hope he is—I am afraid not, however. I thought you would ascertain for me.” “Certainly, madam, certainly. Nothing easier in the world. We’ll find out all about him. We’ll learn the innermost secrets of his heart, and I’ve no doubts we shall find him grossly unfaithful. Most men are.”
“Oh, not at all, sir,” the lady cries, a little startled. “I’m sure that——”
Good sense comes to her aid, and she pauses. She must not tell all, even to her “legal adviser.” The counsellor smiles; he has seen such cases before. It is only an affair of exchanging an old love for a new one.
“Has he ever maltreated you—struck you?” he asks.
“Oh, no!”