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Updated: June 17, 2025
The lawyer raved and pleaded in vain. The doctor was firm. He wrote Bivens a generous personal letter in which he asked that the past be forgotten and that he appoint a meeting at which they could arrange the terms of a final friendly settlement. The act had lifted a load from his heart.
I'm going to close that door and leave you here for an hour." "Alone with all that?" "Oh, there's only one way out," Bivens laughed, "through my little reception room and I'll be there. I'll meet some of the gentlemen who are waiting. When you are satisfied of the accuracy of my account, just tap on my door and I'll join you immediately. Do the inspection carefully. It's of grave importance.
But you are facing a bigger question than one of statutory law." "So I am, boy, so I am! That's why I gave you a glimpse to-night of the world in which I live and work and dream." "Bivens has put up to you a cold-blooded business proposition " "Exactly. And there are things that can't be bought and sold. I am one of them!"
While Bivens had really been wax in her skillful hands since the day of her marriage, the one task she found hard was her desperate and determined effort to make him a well-groomed man. She was finally compelled to write out instructions for his daily conduct and enforce them with all sorts of threats and blandishments.
Both were silent for a long while and then they began to talk in low tones of the life they had lived as boy and girl in the old South, and forgot the flight of time. As the moment drew nearer for the doctor to make known his presence to Bivens his heart began to fail. With an effort he took fresh courage. "Of course I'll succeed!" he exclaimed.
If the devil rules the universe, and dog-eat-dog is the law, there'll be a big hand feeling for your throat, feeling blindly in the dark, perhaps, but it will get there! When I look into your brazen face to-night, and hear the strains of that music, there's something inside of me that wants to kill." "But you won't, Woodman!" Bivens interrupted with a sneer.
"I'll give a fit climax to his dance of Death and the Worm." He drew the revolver from his pocket, broke it, examined the shells, snapped them in place and thrust the deadly thing in the inner pocket of his coat. He could draw it from there without attracting the attention of his victim. He quickly descended the stairs and saw Bivens talking to his wife.
Bivens was taken right into this energetic and enterprising man's confidence. He did considerable outside work for his employer for ten days. On the eleventh day, reporting at the office, he found the promoter's secretary and office boy awaiting him, in company with his office furniture, outside the locked door.
"No, my boy," Bivens went on, after a pause, "I don't have to do dirty little things like that. These big issues have been raised. They are bound to come to trial before the Supreme Court of the United States our one great tribunal beyond reproach or suspicion. They will be decided on their merits. The issues involved are too big and far-reaching for pettifogging methods.
The doctor's big fists suddenly closed and Bivens took a step back toward his desk when his slender hand gripped and fumbled a heavy cut glass ink stand. The older observed his trembling hand with a smile of contempt.
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