At the same time, there came into Tom’s mind, a vague suspicion against Mr. Cutler. Yet, what object would that lawyer have in opening the envelope containing papers in a case, which, presumably, all the partners knew about? “Or could it have been Sandow?” thought Tom. “He might have sneaked in and opened the envelope, when Cutler left him alone for a minute. That Sandow is a sneak, I believe. I have proof enough of that in the way he tried to make me believe that mysterious message I heard him give Cutler didn’t amount to anything.” But Tom had little more time for thought that morning, as the switchboard kept him almost constantly engaged. The firm had several important cases to attend to, and inquiries and messages concerning them were constantly coming in. “Whew! My ear aches!” exclaimed Tom to himself, after an hour during which he had been engaged in putting plugs in, taking them out, shifting cams and pressing buttons. “This sort of life is lively enough, at times, to suit almost any one. But I guess I’ll have a chance now to look at my law book.” For Tom still stuck to the resolution he had made, to “read law” during his spare moments. He was looking intently at the book, yet alert for any telephone call that might come in, when he became aware that a stranger had entered the office. He looked up to see a man, evidently a farmer in his “Sunday” clothes, standing beside the telephone desk. “Is my case ready?” asked the man, evidently taking it for granted that Tom was either a member of the firm, or, at least, must keep track of all the cases. “I don’t know,” the boy answered politely. “What is the name, please, and who did you want to see?” “Wa’al, I reckon I want to see Boise, Keen & Cutler. That’s the way all the letters is signed that I git. Which one be you?” “None of them,” answered Tom, with a smile. “But if you tell me which member of the firm you wish to see I’ll inquire about your case for you.” “Wa’al, I’m switched if I know. Jest as I say, all the letters was signed with the hull three names.” “Were there any initial under the name?” inquired Tom, for it was the practice of the firm to sign the names of all three partners, together with the first letter of the name of whichever particular lawyer happened to dictate the letter. “Here, look for yourself,” invited the farmer, holding out a missive. “That’s the last one I got, an’ it says my case was comin’ off to-day.” Tom looked at the letter. It was one concerning a lawsuit over some water-rights on a farm, and from the fact that the letter “B” was below the firm signature, the boy concluded that Mr. Boise had written it. “I guess you want to see the senior partner, Mr. Boise,” said Tom. “Take a chair, Mr. Kendall, and I’ll find out when he can see you.” “How’d you know my name was Kendall?” asked the odd client sharply. “You ain’t one of them gold-brick swindlers, be ye? I understand they call a man by his name as soon as they set eyes on him.”