"Well, of course, I needn't tell you how important that is. There
is one man, old General Van Sickle, who has had considerable
training in these matters. He's fairly reliable."

The entrance of Gen. Judson P. Van Sickle threw at the very outset
a suggestive light on the whole situation. The old soldier, over
fifty, had been a general of division during the Civil War, and
had got his real start in life by filing false titles to property
in southern Illinois, and then bringing suits to substantiate his
fraudulent claims before friendly associates. He was now a prosperous
go-between, requiring heavy retainers, and yet not over-prosperous.
There was only one kind of business that came to the General--this
kind; and one instinctively compared him to that decoy sheep at
the stock-yards that had been trained to go forth into nervous,
frightened flocks ofits fellow-sheep, balking at being driven into
the slaughtering-pens, and lead them peacefully into the shambles,
knowing enough always to make his own way quietly to the rear
during the onward progress and thus escape. A dusty old lawyer,
this, with Heaven knows what welter of altered wills, broken
promises, suborned juries, influenced judges, bribed councilmen and
legislators, double-intentioned agreements and contracts, and a
whole world of shifty legal calculations and false pretenses
floating around in his brain. Among the politicians, judges, and
lawyers generally, by reason of past useful services, he was
supposed to have some powerful connections. He liked to be called
into any case largely because it meant something to do and kept
him from being bored. When compelled to keep an appointment in
winter, he would slip on an old greatcoat of gray twill that he
had worn until it was shabby, then, taking down a soft felt hat,