and tell me in plain language why I should not grant his prayer."
Mr. Weems jerked his chin nervously, making his flabby gray dewlap drag
across his high stiff collar, and resumed:
"May it please the honorable court, I represent the public�"
"Just a moment. I thought you were appearing for Amalgamated Life
Insurance."
"I am, your honor, in a formal sense. In a wider sense I represent several
other of the major assurance, fiduciary and financial institutions, their
stockholders and policy holders, who constitute a majority of the
citizenry. In addition we feel that we protect the interests of the entire
population, unorganized, inarticulate and otherwise unprotected."
"I thought that I represented the public," observed the judge dryly. "I am
afraid I must regard you as appearing for your client of record. But
continue. What is your thesis?"
The elderly barrister attempted to swallow his Adam's apple, then began
again: "Your honor, we contend that there are two separate reasons why this
injunction should be made permanent, and, further, that each reason is
sufficient alone.
"In the first place, this person is engaged in the practice of soothsaying,
an occupation proscribed both in common law and statute. He is a common
fortune-teller, a vagabond charlatan who preys on the gullibility of the
public. He is cleverer than the ordinary gypsy palm reader, astrologer or
table tipper, and to the same extent more dangerous. He makes false claims
of modern scientific methods to give a spurious dignity of the thaumaturgy.
We have here in court leading representatives of the Academy of Science to
give expert witness as to the absurdity of his claims.
"In the second place, even if this person's claims were true�granting for
the sake of argument such an absurdity�" Mr. Weems permitted himself a
thin-lipped smile�"we contend that his activities are contrary to the
public interest in general, and unlawfully injurious to the interests of my
client in particular. We are prepared to produce numerous exhibits with the
legal custodians to prove that this person did publish, or cause to have
published, utterances urging the public to dispense with the priceless boon
of life insurance to the great detriment of their welfare and to the
financial damage of my client."
Pinero arose in his place. "Your honor, may I say a few words?"
"What is it?"
"I believe I can simplify the situation if permitted to make a brief
analysis.
"Your honor," put in Weems, "this is most irregular."
"Patience, Mr. Weems. Your interests will be protected. It seems to me that
we need more light and less noise in this matter. If Dr. Pinero can shorten
the proceedings by speaking at this time, I am inclined to let him.
Proceed, Dr. Pinero."
"Thank you, your honor. Taking the last of Mr. Weems' point first, I am
prepared to stipulate that I published the utterances he speaks of�"
"One moment, doctor. You have chosen to act as your own attorney. Are you
sure you are competent to protect your own interests?"
"I am prepared to chance it, your honor. Our friends here can easily prove
what I stipulate."
"Very well. You may proceed."
"I will stipulate that many persons have canceled life insurance policies
as a result there of, but I challenge them to show that anyone so doing has
suffered any loss or damage there from. It is true that the Amalgamated has
lost business through my activities, but that is the natural result of my
discovery, which has made their policies as obsolete as the bow and arrow.
If an injunction is granted on that ground, I shall set up a coal-oil-lamp
factory, and then ask for an injunction against the Edison and General
Electric companies to forbid them to manufacture incandescent bulbs.
"I will stipulate that I am engaged in the business of making predictions
of death, but I deny that I am practicing magic, black, white or
rainbow-colored. If to make predictions by methods of scientific accuracy
is illegal, then the actuaries of the Amalgamated have been guilty for
years, in that they predict the exact percentage that will die each year in
any given large group. I predict death retail; the Amalgamated predicts it
wholesale. If their actions are legal, how can mine be illegal?
"I admit that it makes a difference whether I can do what I claim, or not;
and I will stipulate that the so-called expert witnesses from the Academy
of Science will testify that I cannot. But they know nothing of my method
and cannot give truly expert testimony on it�"
"Just a moment, doctor. Mr. Weems, is it true that your expert witnesses
are not conversant with Dr. Pinero's theory and methods?"
Mr. Weems looked worried. He drummed on the table top, then answered. "Will
the court grant me a few moments' indulgence?"
"Certainly."
Mr. Weems held a hurried whispered consultation with his cohorts, then
faced the bench. "We have a procedure to suggest, your honor. If Dr. Pinero
will take the stand and explain the theory and practice of his alleged
method, then these distinguished scientists will be able to advise the
court as to the validity of his claims."
The judge looked inquiringly at Pinero, who responded: "I will not
willingly agree to that. Whether my process is true or false, it would be
dangerous to let it fall into the hands of fools and quacks�" he waved his
hand at the group of professors seated in the front row, paused and smiled
maliciously�"as these gentlemen know quite well. Furthermore, it is not
necessary to know the process in order to prove that it will work. Is it
necessary for me to re-educate this entire body of self-appointed
custodians of wisdom�cure them of their ingrown superstitions�in order to
prove that my predictions are correct?
"There are but two ways of forming an opinion in science. One is the
scientific method; the other, the scholastic. One can judge from
experiment, or one can blindly accept authority. To the scientific mind,
experimental proof is all�important, and theory is merely a convenience in
description, to be junked when it no longer fits. To the academic mind,
authority is everything, and facts are junked when they do not fit theory
laid down by authority.
"It is this point of view�academic minds clinging like oysters to disprove
theories�that has blocked every advance of knowledge in history. I am
prepared to prove my method by experiment, and, like Galileo in another
court, I insist, "It still moves!"
"Once before I offered such proof to this Some body of self-styled experts,
and they rejected it. I renew my offer; let me measure the life length of
the members of the Academy of Science. Let them appoint a committee to
judge the results. I will seal my findings in two sets of envelopes; on the
outside of each envelope in one set will appear the name of a member; on
the inside, the date of his death. In the other envelopes I will place
names; on the outside I will place dates. Let the committee place the
envelopes in a vault, then meet from time to time to
open the appropriate
envelopes. In such a large body of men some deaths may be expected, if
Amalgamated actuaries can be trusted, every week or two. In such a fashion
they will accumulate data very rapidly to prove that Pinero is a liar, or
no."
He stopped, and thrust out his chest until it almost caught up with his
little round belly. He glared at the sweating servants. "Well?"
The judge raised his eyebrows, and caught Mr. Weems' eye. "Do you accept?"
"Your honor, I think the proposal highly improper�"
The judge cut him short. "I warn you that I shall rule against you if you
do not accept, or propose an equally reasonable method of arriving at the
truth."
Weems opened his mouth, changed his mind, looked up and down the faces of
the learned witnesses, and faced the bench. "We accept, your honor."
"Very well. Arrange the details between you. The temporary injunction is
lifted, and Dr. Pinero must not be molested in the pursuit of his business.
"Decision on the petition for permanent injunction is reserved without
prejudice pending the accumulation of evidence. Before we leave this matter
I wish to comment on the theory implied by you, Mr. Weems, when you claimed
damage to your client. There has grown up in the minds of certain groups in
this country the notion that because a man or corporation has made a profit
out of the public for a number of years, the government and the courts are
charged with the duty of guaranteeing such profit in the future, even in
the face of changing circumstances and contrary to public interest. This
strange doctrine is not supported by statute nor common law. Neither
individuals nor corporations have any right to come into court and ask that
the clock of history be stopped, or turned back."
Bidwell grunted in annoyance. "Weems, if you can't think up anything better
than that, Amalgamated is going to need a new chief attorney. It's been ten
weeks since you lost the injunction, and that little wart is coining money
hand over fist. Meantime, every insurance firm in the country's going
broke. Hoskins, what's our loss ratio?"
"It's hard to say, Mr. Bidwell. It gets worse every day. We've paid off
thirteen big policies this week; all of them taken out since Pinero started
operations."
applicants for United, until we have time to check and be sure that they
have not consulted Pinero. Can't we afford to wait until the scientists
show him up?"
Bidwell snorted. "You blasted optimist! They won't show him up. Aldrich,
can't you face a fact? The fat little pest has something; how, I don't
know. This is a fight to the finish. If we wait, we're licked." He threw
his cigar into a cuspidor, and bit savagely into a fresh one. "Clear out of
here, all of you! I'll handle this my own way. You, too, Aldrich. United
may wait, but Amalgamated won't."
Weems cleared his throat apprehensively. "Mr. Bidwell, I trust you will
consult me before embarking on any major change in policy?"
Bidwell grunted. They filed out. When they were all gone and the door
closed, Bidwell snapped the switch of the inter-office announcer. "O.K.;
send him in."
The outer door opened. A slight, dapper figure stood for a moment at the
threshold. His small, dark eyes glanced quickly about the room before he
entered, then he moved up to Bidwell with a quick, soft tread. He spoke to
Bidwell in a flat, emotionless voice. His face remained impassive except
for the live, animal eyes. "You wanted to talk to me?"
"Yes."
"What's the proposition?"
"Sit down, and we'll talk."
Pinero met the young couple at the door of his inner office.
"Come in, my dears, come in. Sit down. Make yourselves at home. Now tell
me, what do you want of Pinero? Surely such young people are not anxious
about the final roll call?"
The boy's pleasant young face showed slight confusion. "Well, you see, Dr.
Pinero, I'm Ed Hartley and this is my wife, Betty. We're going to have . .
. that is, Betty is expecting a baby and, well�"
Pinero smiled benignly. "I understand. You want to know how long you will
live in order to make the best possible provision for the youngster. Quite
wise. Do you both want readings, or just yourself?"
The girl answered, "Both of us, we think."
Pinero beamed at her. "Quite so. I agree. Your reading presents certain
technical difficulties at this time, but I can give you some information
now. Now come into my laboratory, my dears, and we'll commence."
He rang for their case histories, then showed them into his workshop. "Mrs.
Hartley first, please. If you will go behind that screen and remove your
shoes and your outer clothing, please."
He turned away and made some minor adjustments of his apparatus. Ed nodded
to his wife, she slipped behind the screen and reappeared almost at once,
dressed in a slip. Pinero glanced up.
"This way, my dear. First we must weigh you. There. Now take you place on
the stand. This electrode in your mouth. No, Ed, you mustn't touch her
while she is in the circuit. It won't take a minute. Remain quiet."
He dove under the machine's hood and the dials sprang into life. Very
shortly he came out, with a perturbed look on his face. "Ed, did you touch
her?"
"No, doctor." Pinero ducked back again and remained a little longer. When
he came out this time, he told the girl to get down and dress. He turned to
her husband.
"Ed, make yourself ready."
"What's Betty's reading, doctor?"
"There is a little difficulty. I want to test you first."
When he came out from taking the youth's reading, his face was more
troubled than ever. Ed inquired as to his trouble. Pinero shrugged his
shoulders and brought a smile to his lips.
"Nothing to concern you, my boy. A little mechanical misadjustment, I
think. But I shan't be able to give you two your readings today. I shall
need to overhaul my machine. Can you come back tomorrow?"
"Why, I think so. Say, I'm sorry about your machine. I hope it isn't
serious."
"It isn't, I'm sure. Will you come back into my office and visit for a
bit?"
"Thank you, doctor. You are very kind.
"But, Ed, I've got to meet Ellen."
Pinero turned the full force of his personality on her. "Won't you grant me
a few moments, my dear young lady? I am old, and like the sparkle of young
folks' company. I get very little of it. Please." He nudged them gently
into his office and seated them. Then he ordered lemonade and cookies sent
Forty minutes later Ed listened entranced, while Betty was quite evidently
acutely nervous and anxious to leave as the doctor spun out a story
concerning his adventures as a young man in Terra del Fuego. When the
doctor stopped to relight his cigar, she stood up.
"Doctor, we really must leave. Couldn't we hear the rest tomorrow?"
"Tomorrow? There will not be time tomorrow."
"But you haven't time today, ei
ther. Your secretary has rung five times."
"Couldn't you spare me just a few more minutes?"
"I really can't today, doctor. I have an appointment. There is someone
waiting for me."
"There is no way to induce you?"
"I'm afraid not. Come, Ed."
After they had gone, the doctor stepped to the window and stared out over
the city. Presently he picked out two tiny figures as they left the office
building. He watched them hurry to the corner, wait for the lights to
change, then start across the street. When they were part way across, there
came the scream of a siren. The two little figures hesitated, started back,
stopped and turned. Then a car was upon them. As the car slammed to a stop,
they showed up from beneath it, no longer two figures, but simply a limp,
unorganized heap of clothing.
Presently the doctor turned away from the window. Then he picked up his
phone and spoke to his secretary.
"Cancel my appointments for the rest of the day. . . .
No. . . . No one. . . . I don't care; cancel them."
Then he sat down in his chair. His cigar went out.
Long after dark he held it, still unlighted.
Pinero sat down at his dining table and contemplated the gourmet's luncheon
spread before him. He had ordered this meal with particular care, and had
come home a little early in order to enjoy it fully.
Somewhat later he let a few drops of fiori d'Alpini roll down his throat.
The heavy, fragrant syrup warmed his mouth and reminded him of the little
mountain flowers for which it was named. He sighed. It had been a good
meal, an exquisite meal and had justified the exotic liqueur.
His musing was interrupted by a disturbance at the front door. The voice of
his elderly maidservant was raised in remonstrance. A heavy male voice
interrupted her. The commotion moved down the hall and the dining room door
was pushed open.
"Mia Madonna! Non si puo entrare! The master is eating!"
"Never mind, Angela. I have time to see these gentlemen. You may go."
Pinero faced the surly-faced spokesman of the intruders. "You have business
with me; yes?"
"You bet we have. Decent people have had enough of your damned nonsense."
"And so?"
The caller did not answer at once. A smaller, dapper individual moved out
from behind him and faced Pinero.
"We might as well begin." The chairman of the committee placed a key in the
lock box and opened it.
"Wenzell will you help me pick out today's envelopes?"
He was interrupted by a touch on his arm.
"Dr. Baird, you are wanted on the telephone."
"Very well. Bring the instrument here."
When it was fetched he placed the receiver to his ear. "Hello. . . . Yes;
speaking. . . . What? . . . No, we have heard nothing. . . Destroyed the
machine, you say . . . Dead! How? . . . No! No statement. None at all. . .
Call me later."
He slammed the instrument down and pushed it from him.
"What's up?"
"Who's dead now?"
Baird held up one hand. "Quiet, gentlemen, please! Pinero was murdered a
few moments ago at his home."
"Murdered?"
"That isn't all. About the same time vandals broke into his office and
smashed his apparatus."
No one spoke at first. The committee members glanced around at each other.
No one seemed anxious to be the first to comment.
Finally one spoke up. "Get it out."
"Get what out?"
"Pinero's envelope. It's in there, too. "I've seen it."