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Updated: June 3, 2025
Robert Visigoth, attorney-at-law, whose practice had suddenly, by one of those arbitrary twists as difficult to account for as the changed course of a river, assumed a theatrical twist, had taken over, on cleverly obtained backing, the Union Family Theater from an insolvent client.
The face of Walter McAndrew, Attorney-at-Law, expressed surprise. "What's the drive?" he asked. "That's what I want to know. How am I to drive? Uncle Em, see here. I want a runabout wait, please wait! A nice, shiny runabout, that I can 'run' myself. I'll take you some of the time. Now, when can I have it?"
So presently he betook himself off, going straight to the office in Legal Row of H. B. Sublette, Attorney-at-law. From the circumstance that he found Mr. Sublette in, though it was long past that gentleman's office hours, and, moreover, found Mr.
Peter Fishwick, Attorney-at-Law, not in the glory of brass, but painted in white letters on the green door, undeceived him; and, opening the wicket of the tiny garden, he knocked with the head of his cane on the door. The appearance of a stately gentleman in a laced coat and a sword, waiting outside Fishwick's, opened half the doors in the street; but not that one at which Sir George stood.
In this last stage of its career, where it was both grimy and solitary, and alternately quiet and roaring to the wheels of drays, we found a certain house of some pretension to neatness, and furnished with a rustic outside stair. On the pillar of the stair a black plate bore in gilded lettering this device: "Harry D. Bellairs, Attorney-at-law. Consultations, 9 to 6."
A critical perusal of the terms of this shrewd contract will readily convince even a layman that it was perfectly legal. Bob hurled mental defiance at every legal light in the country to prove collusion and conspiracy to defraud under that contract. It proved merely that Bob McGraw was acting in his capacity as a duly authorized attorney-at-law, seeking to turn an honest penny.
"Very well; then just mention me as a dignified and reverend attorney-at-law, and we'll keep the rest a secret between us." It was Saturday afternoon. The day was bright and sunny, and in the shelter of the grand stand on the campus, where the little east wind could not rustle, it was comfortably warm.
This was Joseph Louden, Attorney-at-Law; and to Ariel it was like a new face seen in a flash-light not at all the face of Joe. The sense of his strangeness, his unfamiliarity in this electrical aspect, overcame her. She was possessed by astonishment: Did she know him so well, after all?
Jimmie Dale had halted before a small building on one of the cross streets near the upper end of the Bowery. There were some half dozen signs on the doorway, for the most part time worn and shabby, amongst them that of Henry Grenville, Attorney-at-Law. There were no lights in any of the windows, but Jimmie Dale, as he tried the door, found it unlocked, and, opening it noiselessly, stepped inside.
Yes; General Deffenbaugh was Elmville. One little incident that usually occurred during the Governor's morning walk has had its chronicling delayed by more important matters. The procession was accustomed to halt before a small brick office on the Avenue, fronted by a short flight of steep wooden steps. A modest tin sign over the door bore the words: "Wm. B. Pemberton: Attorney-at-Law."
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