The morning after this first day in New York, Peter called on his
friend, the civil engineer, to consult him about an office; for Watts
had been rather hazy in regard to where he might best locate that. Mr.
Converse shook his head when Peter outlined his plan.

"Do you know any New York people," he asked, "who will be likely to give
you cases?"

"No," said Peter.

"Then it's absolutely foolish of you to begin that way," said Mr.
Converse. "Get into a lawyer's office, and make friends first before you
think of starting by yourself. You'll otherwise never get a client."

Peter shook his head. "I've thought it out," he added, as if that
settled it.

Mr. Converse looked at him, and, really liking the fellow, was about to
explain the real facts to him, when a client came in. So he only said,
"If that's so, go ahead. Locate on Broadway, anywhere between the
Battery and Canal Street." Later in the day, when he had time, he shook
his head, and said, "Poor devil! Like all the rest."

Anywhere between the Battery and Canal Street represented a fairly large
range of territory, but Peter went at the matter directly, and for the
next three days passed his time climbing stairs, and inspecting rooms
and dark cells. At the end of that time he took a moderate-sized office,
far back in a building near Worth Street. Another day saw it fitted with
a desk, two chairs (for Peter as yet dreamed only of single clients) and