“I mean,” explained Hinse, “that I’ll get the money for you if any one can, but I’ll have to charge five dollars in advance.” Mrs. Moffat hesitated. “I got it,” she said, “but it’s rent money.” “There’s more than rent in this,” declared Hinse, “but why should I take all the risk? It is a hard case and will take a great deal of my time, but I know these people, and I think I can work it out of them. You happened to come to just the right man.” Mrs. Moffat was sitting on the opposite side of the desk from Hinse, which she deemed fortunate at this critical moment. “There ain’t any safe place to leave money at home,” she explained apologetically, “an’ a woman don’t have safe pockets like a man.” She made a dive down behind the desk, there was a sound of moving skirts, and she straightened up with three bills in her hand—a five and two ones. She handed the five to Hinse, who promptly tucked it away in his vest pocket. “I don’t know what I’ll do about the rent,” she sighed. “Think of the insurance,” suggested Hinse, “and remember that you’ve got the best man cheap. I’ll see these insurance people to-day.” Hinse was a large pompous man, who wore a long rusty frock coat, because he thought that kind of coat properly impressed his police-court clients. His speeches also were for his clients, rather than for the judge—he wanted to show them he was not afraid of the court. He talked loud and aggressively. His whole life being what is popularly termed a “bluff,” it naturally followed that he considered bluffing the main element of success. That is where he made his mistake when he went to see Dave Murray about Mrs. Moffat’s claim. Murray was not in particularly good humor that day. A friend had been arguing to him that corporations are notoriously ungrateful for services rendered, and another friend had endeavored to demonstrate that life insurance companies had a way of forcing a man to the limit of his endurance, of squeezing all the life and energy out of him in a few years, and then dropping him. The worst of it was that some of the cases cited Murray knew to be true: men were “forced” and then left to seek other avenues of employment when insurance had got the best that was in them. He had argued that it was the universal business rule of “the survival of the fittest”; that the man who had the ability to get near the top need have no fear, and that men who could stand the pace prospered wherever they might be in the great system. But an unexpected and rather harsh criticism from headquarters had given him a more pessimistic view of the situation: it could not be denied that comparatively few men grew old in the service. Then there was a gloomy outlook for a promotion he had expected, to add to his annoyance, and—well, Murray, the energetic and enthusiastic Murray, was momentarily dissatisfied. He was in no humor to be “bluffed” by a pompous shyster lawyer. “I am representing Mrs. Jane Moffat,” announced Hinse.