Gold Comes in Bricks by A. A. Fair (Erle Stanley Gardner) Page B

corporation. We buy up the outstanding stock which has been issued. Never have to pay more than half a cent or a cent a share. Of course, there are only a few corporations which answer our purpose. I’ve made all the preliminary investigation. I know the corporations. No one else does.”
    “Then why do you say in your letter that I’ll have to give you the name of the corporation?”
    “To keep my hands clean,” he said. “You’ll write me a letter giving me the name of the corporation. I’ll simply act as your attorney, following your instructions. Understand, Mr. Lam, I’m going to keep in the clear—at all times.”
    “When do you give me the name of the corporation?”
    “When you have paid me one thousand dollars.”
    “Your letter says fifty.”
    He beamed at me through his glasses. “It does, doesn’t it? Makes it sound so much better, too. Your receipt will he for fifty, young man. Your payment will be one thousand bucks.”
    “And after that?”
    “After that,” he said, “you’ll pay me ten per cent of the take.”
    “How will you be protected on that?”
    “Never fear.” He chuckled. “I’ll be protected.”
    The secretary came in with the letter. He pushed his glasses back up on his nose with the tip of his forefinger, and his glittering black eyes read the letter carefully. He took a fountain pen, signed the letter, and handed it to the secretary. “Give it to Mr. Lam,” he said. “Do you have the fee available, Mr. Lam?”
    “Not right at the present moment—not the amount you mentioned.”
    “When will you have it?”
    “Probably within a day or two.”
    “Come in any time. I’ll be glad to see you.”
    He got up and wrapped long, cold fingers around my hand. “I thought,” he said, “you were more familiar with the routine procedure in such cases. You seemed to be when you came to the office.”
    “I was,” I told him, “but I always hate to tell a lawyer the law. I’d rather have him tell me the law.”
    He nodded and grinned. “A very smart young man, Mr. Lam. Now, Miss Sykes, if you’ll bring in that file in the Case of Helman versus Helman, I’ll dictate an answer and cross-complaint. When Mr. Lam comes in to pay his fee, I’ll see him personally, and give him a receipt. Good morning, Mr. Lam.”
    “Good-by,” I said, and walked out. The secretary waited until I had gone through the door before going after the file of Helman versus Helman.
    I went down to the agency office. Bertha Cool was in. Elsie Brand was at her secretarial desk, hammering away at the typewriter.
    “Anybody in with the boss?” I asked.
    She shook her head.
    I walked across to the door that was marked Private and pushed it open.
    Bertha Cool shoved an account book hurriedly into the cash drawer of the desk, slammed the drawer shut, and locked it. “Where did you go?” she asked.
    “I tailed along for a while, saw her into a movie, and came back to look for you.”
    “A movie?”
    I nodded.
    Bertha Cool’s little glittering eyes surveyed me thoughtfully. “How’s the job?” she asked.
    “Still going.”
    “You’ve managed to keep her from saying anything?”
    I nodded, and she asked, “How did you do it?”
    “Just kidding her along,” I said. “I think she likes to have me around.”
    Bertha Cool sighed. “Donald, you have the damnedest way with women. What do you do to make them fall for you?”
    “Nothing,” I said.
    She looked me over again and said, “It may be at that. All the competition is trying to appear big and masculine, and you sit back as though you weren’t interested. Sometimes I think you bring out the mother complex in us.”
    I said, “Nix on that us stuff. This is business.”
    She gave a throaty chuckle, and said, “Whenever you try to get hard with me, lover, I know that you’re after money.”
    “And whenever you start handing me the soft soap, I know you’re trying to kid me out of it.”
    “How much do you want?”
    “Plenty.”
    “I