The Case of the Cautious Coquette

Chapter 12

Mason walked down the linoleum-covered hallway of the hospital.

Nurses had begun to quiet the patients down for the evening. The lights were dim and the hospital hush was broken only by the occasional rustle of starched uniforms as nurses on rubber-soled shoes moved swiftly and efficiently about their business.

Mason, feeling embarrassingly healthy, tiptoed awkwardly down the corridor.

The supervising nurse frowned at him, said, “No visitors after...” then, recognizing him, smiled and said, “I think your patient is feeling very very fine this evening, Mr. Mason.”

“How come?” Mason asked.

“This afternoon he was worrying about the hospital bills, wondering how he was ever going to pay them, and...”

“I told him I’d take care of all those,” Mason said.

“I know, but he didn’t want you to do that, Mr. Mason. You’ve been terribly good to him, and of course he didn’t have the faintest idea of who’d hit him. Those hit-and-run cases are really terrible things.”

“And what happened to make him feel good this evening?” Mason asked.

She smiled. “The man who hit him came up and acknowledged the fault and was just ready to do anything on earth.”

“Man by the name of Caffee?” Mason asked, frowning.

“I don’t know what his name was.”

“A man with thin features, gray hair, a gray double-breasted suit, about fifty-five or fifty-six...”

“That’s the one,” she said.

“Humph,” Mason grunted. “I hope he didn’t slip anything over on Bob Finchley. I’d warned that boy not to make any... oh well, let’s go take a look.”

The lawyer forgot to tiptoe. His heels were pounding belligerently on the corridor as he pushed open the door of Room 309. Bob Finchley, lying flat, with an elaborate system of pulleys holding his leg and hip in position, looked up, saw Mason, and a big grin engulfed his features.

“Hello, counselor.”

“Hello, Bob. How’s it coming?”

“Fine, Mr. Mason. Gosh, we’re all out of the woods! You know what happened?”

“What?”

“The man that hit me came in. He’s really a swell guy. He had a young fellow with him from the insurance company, a chap about my age, who was really swell.”

Mason said, “You should have called me.”

“Gosh, I tried to, Mr. Mason, but your office was closed.”

Mason frowned. “All right, Bob. What happened?”

“Well, this man told me that there was no need of my going to court. He wanted to know what I thought it was going to cost me for doctors and hospital bills and then the man from the insurance company said they felt pretty bad about it and — do you know what they did, Mr. Mason?”

Mason drew up a chair. “Look here, Bob. Did you sign anything?”

“Why, sure. I had to in order to get the settlement.”

Mason’s face darkened. “You mean you sold me out, Bob? You settled without me?”

“No, no, Mr. Mason, I fixed it so everything was all right for you. They really paid off.”

“What happened?”

“The insurance adjuster said that he’d pay me five thousand dollars; that they’d pay all of my hospital bills, all of my doctor’s bills, and that they’d agree to pay you a reasonable sum as an attorney’s fee.”

“A reasonable sum,” Mason said.

“That’s what they agreed.”

“Of course,” Mason said, “my idea of what’s reasonable and their idea of what’s reasonable might be very far apart under the circumstances.”

“And in addition to that,” Bob said, “the man gave me his personal check for a thousand dollars over and above what the insurance company would pay.”

“A man by the name of Caffee?” Mason asked.

Bob’s face showed surprise. “No, not Cafifee — Stephen Argyle.”

“What!” Mason exclaimed.

“That’s right.”

Mason said, “Begin at the beginning. Tell me the whole thing. Make it quick, Bob. Get it out just as fast as you can. Did they give you a copy of the document you signed?”

“Yes, sir,”

“Let me see it,” Mason said.

Mason glanced through the document. A slow grin came over his features. “All right, Bob. Now tell me what happened.”

“Well, they came in here about an hour and a half ago, Mr. Mason. It seems that Mr. Argyle was very very much upset. He said he couldn’t talk about the accident, because the insurance company wouldn’t let him, but he was just terribly sorry about everything. He was a nice guy.”

“Go ahead,” Mason said.

“Mr. Argyle is really trying to do the right thing, Mr. Mason. He told me he’d been waiting at your office for you to come in because he wanted to have you with him when he talked with me. He said your office was closed but your confidential secretary was there and that she wasn’t certain you’d be back any more this evening.

“He tried to call you from the hospital here two or three times but there was no answer.”

Mason frowned. “We don’t answer the phone after the office closes. I have an unlisted phone in my private office. I had no idea of what Argyle wanted. I was out on another case.”

“Gee, Mr. Mason, I hope I didn’t do anything wrong.”

Mason shook his head and smiled. “On the contrary, Bob, you did just right.”

“Gosh, I’m glad of that! The way you acted at first... well, I wasn’t sure.”

Mason pocketed the signed copy of the release, said, “Usually whenever anything like this happens, we tell the client not to make any independent settlement, because the lawyer can make a better settlement than the client can ever hope to. But this time, because we didn’t know who had hit you, and it didn’t look as though there’d ever be much chance of finding out, I neglected to give you the usual warning. How’s your head? Hurting much?”

“No, it’s feeling swell... Gosh Mr. Mason, I hope I didn’t... hope I didn’t...”

“Not a bit,” Mason said, grinning. “That signed receipt you have releases Stephen Argyle for any and all claims you may have against him for his own acts and/or those of his agents from the beginning of the world to date.”

“Well, isn’t that receipt all right?”

“Sure, it’s all right,” Mason said, “but now remember, Bob, don’t sign anything else. No matter who comes to you with anything, or what offer is made to you, don’t sign anything. Understand?”

“Why, yes, sir.”

“Now the insurance company gave you a check, and Argyle gave you a check?”

“Yes, sir. That’s right.”

“And what about your mother?”

“They’re going to see her. They had me telephone her. They asked me if I thought a thousand dollars would cover the effect of her shock... I knew Mom would be tickled to death with that settlement, but I looked thoughtful, and then Mr. Argyle said, ‘And I’ll raise that another five hundred dollars by my personal check.’ So I guess they’re making a settlement with Mom.”

Mason said, “That’s fine, Bob. Now I want you to endorse those checks and give them to me. I’m going to see that they’re deposited to your credit first thing in the morning. You have an account?”

“Just a small one. Just a few dollars that I’d been saving up for my next year in college, in the Farmers and Mechanics National.”

“All right,” Mason said. “Write on the back of those checks ‘Endorsed for deposit to my account,’ then sign your name on them, give them to me, and I’ll have my secretary take them down and deposit them to your account first thing in the morning.”

“Gee, Mr. Mason, that’ll be swell! Tell me, honestly, did I do wrong in making this settlement?”

“Under the circumstances,” Mason said, “you did all right, but don’t do it again. If anybody comes with anything for you to sign, no matter what it is, just tell them you’re not signing a thing. Can you do that?”

“Yes, sir. I think so.”

Mason took out his fountain pen. “All right now, endorse those checks. Be sure to endorse them only for deposit so that in that way nothing can be done with them except to put them to your account.”

“Well, Mr. Mason, how about your fee? Are they going to...”

“You’re damn right they are,” Mason said, handing him the fountain pen. “They usually think they’re pulling a fast one when they tell an injured party they’ll pay a ‘reasonable’ attorney’s fee. They offer the lawyer some absurdly small amount and then point out he’ll have to sue to get any more. By the time they get done they whittle the thing down until...”

“Gosh, Mr. Mason,” Finchley exclaimed in dismay, “they aren’t going to do that to you, are they?”

“No,” Mason said, smiling, “they aren’t going to do that to me. You see, Bob, the insurance people were so afraid they’d admit liability that they made these releases read that they still denied their policy holder had actually inflicted the injury, but were making a settlement just to avoid litigation.”

“Well, isn’t that all right?” Finchley asked.

“Sure, it’s all right,” Mason grinned, “particularly because their policy holder really didn’t inflict the injury. Tomorrow we’ll make another settlement with the man who really hit you. And in the meantime we’ll deposit these checks.

“And that should teach the insurance company not to sneak around behind a lawyer’s back.

“Now you go to sleep, Bob.”

And Mason gently closed the door to the patient’s room.