After giving his name, age, and profession, he detailed how he had prepared the papers in the original case of Hawkins _versus_ Hawkins and served them upon the defendant personally at the Astor House. "I handed them to Mr. Hawkins myself and explained them to him. He was dressed very much as he is now," cried Bunce. "Do you positively identify this gentleman on your oath as the person you served with the summons and complaint?" inquired Gottlieb as if the matter were merely one of routine. "Absolutely!" retorted Bunce hotly. "I could identify him anywhere by the shape of his nose. I took especial pains to remark his appearance in case the service should ever be disputed." "Thank you. That is all," said Gottlieb. Then turning to the stranger he directed him to take the stand. "What is your name?" he asked sternly. "Aaron Finkelstein--as you know very well, Mr. Gottlieb," answered the stranger. "Do you recognize this gentleman who has just testified?" indicating Bunce. "As far as I know I never saw him in my life," answered Finkelstein. "Did he ever serve you with any papers--in the Astor House or anywhere else?" "Never." "What is your business?" "I am an undertaker." In an instant the room was in a turmoil, Bunce screaming out that he had been tricked by a parcel of shysters, Gottlieb indignantly defending his ruse as a perfectly proper method of discrediting Bunce, and the referee vainly endeavoring to restore order. As for myself, in spite of my anxiety over the whole affair, I could not do otherwise than laugh heartily over Bunce's ludicrous mistake. When Hawkins was brought in from outside, and, after proclaiming his identity, denied ever being served in the original action, the referee was but little inclined to listen to Lawyer Bunce, who now corrected his testimony and swore just as insistently that the real Hawkins was the person to whom he had given the papers in the case. Here, then, was as pretty a trick as had ever been played upon an unsuspecting and well-meaning lawyer; and by it Gottlieb had so strengthened our position that, very likely, the referee would have found for our side even had not Hawkins taken it upon himself to swear the matter through. Moreover, the only person who could have disproved the latter's testimony or given evidence that might have militated against its probability--to wit, Crookshank, his former attorney--was dead and buried, and it seemed as if truth were buried with him. On the way back to our office I congratulated my partner on the Napoleonic strategy which he had displayed and a few days later a more substantial compliment followed, in the shape of an unqualified finding in our favor on the part of the referee. "Was ever thirty-five thousand dollars earned so easily!" laughed Gottlieb over his cigar as we were dining at Delmonico's. "So long as Hawkins stays bought--yes," I answered.