man had a small but solid practice, mostly with estates and land titles, but White agreed immediately. Had the widow known anyone else, she would not have asked him, but a friend of White's had been helping her through the trying period after her husband's death, and had recommended White.
Most of what Brunn had left unfinished was routine and offered no chance for chicanery. Then he had come upon the O'Hara papers.
Apparently, many years before, one Kane O'Hara had been an associate of Barnabas Sackett, whoever he was, and later, of his son, Kin Sackett. Partly due to the Sackett association, Kane O'Hara had done well financially, leaving a considerable estate to his heirs. In his will he left a provision that if at any time the O'Hara family was left without an heir in the immediate line, what remained of the estate should go to the youngest living descendant of Kin Sackett.
To White it seemed a foolish document, but all of the subsequent heirs had included the provision in their wills as well, and for a while there had been some association with the Sackett family. At last the event had taken place, and a search for the youngest Sackett had begun.
Adam Brunn's conscientious search for the heirs discovered the Sackett family living in Tennessee, and Brunn had drawn up an advertisement to appear in some Tennessee newspapers just before he died. His widow was determined Brunn's wishes be carried out, as apparently this was one facet of his business he had discussed with her. White proceeded to advertise, but deliberately chose a paper unlikely to be found in Tennessee.
The letter from Echo Sackett had come as a shock, for he was already devising ways by which the money could remain in his hands. White's income varied between six and seven hundred dollars per year, a goodly sum in 1840. The inheritance came to something more than three thousand dollars, and in addition, there was a small iron cube, a puzzle box of some sort, composed of many movable parts, each one a small square with its own symbol or hieroglyphic.
That iron box or cube or whatever it was had become an irritation to White. It must have some significance, for it was mentioned in the will and was obviously important. He had worked over it, turning the various bits and pieces. Some of the squares slid from place to place and could be realigned to make different combinations of the symbols, but what they meant, he could not guess.
Tim Oats was vastly intrigued. 'That there's valuable,' he declared. 'I began life workin' with metals, worked for a jeweler, I did, an' whoever put that thing together was a craftsman! He really knew what he was doin'!'
'It isn't Latin,' White said irritably. 'It isn't any language I know.'
'It's old,' Oats said, 'but there's not a speck of rust. I heard tell of iron like that made long ago in India.'
'A children's toy,' Brunn had written in his notes, 'of only family interest.'
James White, a devious man himself, did not accept that conclusion. In the weeks since it had come into his possession, he had moved, twisted, and turned it - but to no avail. If it had a secret, it was beyond him.
Since three thousand dollars represented four to five years of income for James White, he had no intention of giving it up to any ignorant hillbilly girl. He stared at the papers on his desk and swore bitterly. Three thousand dollars to that impudent slip of a girl! It was preposterous!
Yet, suppose he had to pay it to her? What then? It was a long way back to Tennessee, most of it by stage. White rubbed his jaw thoughtfully, then brushed his mustache with a forefinger.
Maybe ... just maybe ...
Finian Chantry entered the library of the club and looked about. He nodded here and there to the regulars, men with whom he frequently had dealings, business or political, most of whom he had known for years, and in some cases their fathers before them. When his wife had been alive, they dined out often, but of late he had become more and more of a recluse, preferring his books to most of the conversation about matters whose conclusions were obvious.
The club was different. It was one place that held no memories of his wife. It was a gathering place for men, and men only. As he grew older he liked less and less to be involved in disagreements of any kind, and here, in the quiet precincts of the club, over brandy and cigars, he had settled some of his most difficult cases.
It was easier, sometimes, to meet with people on neutral ground, to discuss probable outcomes and resolve problems without going to court. Chantry was, as they all knew, a thorough student of the law, who prepared his cases with infinite skill. His memory was fantastic and he seemed to forget nothing, recalling with ease rulings made fifty years before. He seemed to have read everything and forgotten nothing. Most other attorneys preferred to settle his cases out of court rather than go to trial and almost certain defeat.
Pendleton was a cheerful man with a bald head and muttonchop whiskers. He glanced up as Chantry approached.
'Finian! Come and sit down! We don't see much of you these days!'
'Busy, George, busy! Reading a lot, too. This fellow Dickens, you know? The Englishman?'
'Indeed, I do know! My wife and daughter can scarcely wait for the ship to get in with the next installment. Pity we don't have such writers here!'
Chantry seated himself. 'George, do you know anything about a lawyer named White? James White?'
'I know him.' He twisted in his seat and spoke to the black waiter who was approaching.
'Archie? Get Mr. Chantry something, will you? And bring us some cigars.'
'Calvados, sir?'
'Please.'
'White's a scoundrel. Be disbarred one of these days. Mixes in all sorts of shady dealings. Nothing we can do about it, but we're watching the man.'
When the calvados arrived, Finian took but a sip before putting down his glass.
He drank rarely, but the apple brandy from Normandy seemed about right. He accepted a cigar, bit off the end, and accepted a light from Archie.
'He is handling an estate in which a client of mine is interested.'
'Your client should be careful. The man's a shyster. If not an actual criminal.' Pendleton drew on his cigar. 'Some of Adam Brunn's business, I suspect. When Adam died, his widow put the business in White's hands - why, I can't imagine.
'Adam was a nice old gentleman, but when he died, his widow asked White to handle his affairs. I heard her housekeeper recommended White.'
Pendleton glanced at Chantry. 'A client of yours, you say? I didn't know you handled cases of that sort.'
'The client is a young lady who walked in out of nowhere.'
'With White involved? I'd be careful, Finian. You are a wealthy man, you know.'
'Nothing like that. She recognized my nameplate and came for advice, as she did not trust White. She had recognized the name, and as soon as she mentioned hers, it took me back. I knew her grandfather, George, knew him in the war, and had it not been for him, I'd not be here at all.'
'The war?'
'The Revolution. He was from Tennessee. The greatest woodsman I ever met or expect to meet. We met by accident, but he had known my older brother, had dealings with him. In fact, there's been a shadowy connection between our families for many years. I expect it happens more often than we realize, but our families have rubbed elbows a dozen times.'
'What is the nature of her problem?'
'She did not trust the man. Instinct, I guess, although one of the boarders at Mrs. Sulky's warned her.'
Chantry tasted the calvados again. 'The Sacketts are an odd lot, George. No sooner did they get ashore in this country than they headed for the hills. Like homing pigeons. Once there, they took to the wilderness as if born to it.
'This young lady comes from a place called Tuckalucky Cove. Never been out of the hills except for one short trip to visit relatives in Charleston. But she's no fool. Canny little thing, and afraid of nothing.'
'A little fear might do her good.'
Chantry chuckled. 'Might, but I doubt it. If she is like the other Sacketts I've known, it is the others who should have a little fear.'
'White's a bad actor. Remember Felix Horst? Involved in some killings down along the river a few years ago? Escaped from prison while awaiting trial? White was suspected of arranging his escape.'
'Ah? Yes, I do recall something of the kind. Well, I am glad she came to me. I doubt if he will attempt
