"I mean, who will undoubtedly avail himself of some of them," he corrected himself. "Take this case: It is a crime under the law to give back or rebate part of the premium on a life insurance policy. Now many a man could be induced to insure his life if he could get back the first year's premium. All you have got to do is to tell him that you are an insurance agent and will give it back--and then put the money in your own pocket, for he will have given you the premium for an illegal purpose--that is to say, with the idea of having it paid back to him contrary to law. Under the decision he will have no chance to get you arrested." "Never say that you are not a man of ingenuity yourself," said I. I bade my partner good-night and walked slowly homeward meditating upon the wonders of the law, but totally unconscious of what a harvest was to be reaped from the seed I had sown so innocently. It was but a short time after this that, happening to enter the office somewhat unexpectedly one evening, I discovered Gottlieb in animated conversation with a stockily built man of about forty years of age, whose coal-black hair--by far his most conspicuous feature--had been suffered to grow quite long and was parted evenly in the middle, so that it gave him somewhat the appearance of the hooded seal that was then on exhibition at P. T. Barnum's museum. He had a good-humored face, jet-black eyes, and a familiar, easy way with him that put one on a friendly footing at once. "Hello! Quib!" exclaimed my partner. "I want you to meet my friend, Charlie Billington." "Delighted to meet you, Mister Quibble," cried the stranger, grasping my hand. "Our friend Gottlieb knows me almost better than I know myself--eh, Gottie? Between us we have turned many a trick." "You mean that I have pulled you out of many a bad hole," retorted Gottlieb. "As you please," answered Billington good-temperedly. "But in any event you are a splendid fellow at all times--and especially in times of need." "May I inquire your business, Mr. Billington?" I asked, curious to identify my new acquaintance. Billington winked at Gottlieb. "How would you describe it, Mr. Lawyer?" said he. Gottlieb laughed and shifted his cigar. "Our friend Charlie lives by his brains," he replied. "He is an inventor, a promoter, an artist. He has earned many a small fortune by the simple use of a postage stamp. He can extract gold from seawater or silver from pineapples. Incidentally, he is of a scientific turn of mind and can rattle off the Morse alphabet as deftly as any operator in the business. Occasionally he has, in the interest of finance, tapped a wire." "Tapped a wire!" Instantly I regarded Billington with a new interest. So at last I had met one of those famous gentry of whom I had so often heard!