Bertha said indignantly to Elsie Brand, “Take a telegram to Donald— Your telegram absolutely, utterly cockeyed. Have talked with Josephine Dell, who says man perfect gentleman, drove her home, solicitous over welfare. Can think of plenty of crazy things myself which don’t coincide with facts without paying for collect messages containing cockeyed theories. Suggest you devote attention exclusively to winning war. Have no further connection with case. Parties have all made settlement, leaving agency out in the cold. ”
Bertha hesitated a moment, then said to Elsie Brand, “Read that back to me.”
Elsie read it back.
“Type that up and sign my name to it,” Bertha said, “and—”
She broke off as the door from the corridor opened. The tall, grave, dignified young man from the Intermutual Indemnity Company bowed gravely. “Good morning, Mrs. Cool.”
“You again,” Bertha said.
“A most unfortunate situation has developed. May I talk with you at once, Mrs. Cool?”
“Come on in,” Bertha said.
“Shall I send that telegram?” Elsie asked.
“Yes, write it out, but let me read it before it goes out. Ring for a messenger.”
Bertha Cool led the way into her private office. Fosdick, the insurance adjuster, settled himself comfortably in the chair, brought up his leather brief-case, rested it on his lap, and wrapped his arms around the top of it, using the brief-case as an arm rest. “A most unfortunate situation has arisen,” he repeated.
Bertha didn’t say anything.
After a moment Fosdick went on, “Did you, by any chance, know a man named Jerry Bollman?”
“What’s be got to do with it?”
“He promised us to arrange a complete settlement — for our own figure, one thousand dollars. He made us promise that we wouldn’t question what became of the money. In other words, he could turn over a less amount to the injured party if he desired. We didn’t care, just so we got a complete release supported by an ample legal consideration. The injured party, once she had signed the release, could divide the money any way she wanted to, or she could permit some other person to collect the money for her if she desired.
“Mr. Bollman seemed absolutely confident of his ability to secure such a release. In fact, it seemed he had quite an interest in the injured party. He was, I believe, going with her roommate and intended to marry her soon.”
“Bollman told you that?” Bertha Cool asked.
Fosdick nodded.
“Give you any names?”
“No. He just referred to the young woman as the injured party, and the other young woman as the room-mate. He told a very convincing, straightforward story, however.”
“And you fell for it?”
Fosdick’s eyebrows raised.
Bertha Cool said, “You’re young. You’re just out of Harvard or some other law school that’s given you a superiority complex. You think you know it all. For Christ’s sake, snap out of it!”
“I beg your pardon.”
“Skip it.”
Fosdick’s manner was that of a complete martyr. He managed to convey the impression that the customer was always right, that he wouldn’t even try to defend himself. He said demurely, “I have no doubt Mr. Bollman could have substantiated his story. Unfortunately, however, I see from this morning’s paper that Mr. Bollman was killed last night. It is, of course, regrettable from the standpoint of society and—”
“And the relatives of the dead man,” Bertha Cool pointed out. “But as far as you’re concerned, it’s just a plain calamity. Well, I don’t think Bollman would have done anything except take you for a ride, and keep stringing you along. You know damn well you can’t settle a case like that for a thousand dollars.”
“Why not?”
Bertha Cool laughed and said, “A man so drunk he could hardly see where he was going knocks down a pretty girl, gives her a brain concussion, and you want to settle for a thousand bucks.”
Bertha Cool’s voice dripped with sarcasm.
Fosdick said, “We are making no admissions and no concessions whatever, Mrs. Cool, but we definitely do not agree with you concerning the statement that our insured was intoxicated.”
Bertha laughed sarcastically. “Your man was so dead drunk,” she said, “that he can’t even remember the name and address of the woman whom he struck.”
“I don’t think that’s fair,” Fosdick said with the slow speech of one who is meticulously choosing his words. “The young woman became hysterical and was hardly accountable for her actions.”
“And your man couldn’t even remember where he took her,” Bertha said.
“Pardon, Mrs. Cool, but the young lady was so hysterical that she refused to permit the insured to carry her all the way home, nor would she tell him where she lived when she finally got out of the automobile.”
The door of the private office opened. Elsie Brand came in with the telegram. “If you’ll just check this over,” she said, “the messenger boy is in the outer office.”
Bertha Cool snatched at the telegram and slid it under the blotter of her desk. “Give the boy ten cents,” she said. “I’m not going to send the telegram just now.”
“Ten cents?” Elsie Brand asked.
“Well,” Bertha conceded reluctantly. “Make it fifteen. I’m busy and don’t disturb me. I’ll send this telegram later.”
She turned back to Fosdick as soon as the door of the office had closed. “What’s the use of beating around the bush? Your man was drunk. He was too drunk to be driving the car. Not only did he knock this girl down, but when he tried to drive her home, it became very apparent he was too drunk to pilot the car, so she had to get out. Personally, I would say you were lucky if you got out of it for under twenty thousand dollars.”
“Twenty thousand dollars!”
“Exactly.”
“Mrs. Cool, are you crazy?”
“I’m not crazy. You are. I know what a jury will do. Apparently you don’t.”
Fosdick said, “Well, of course, juries at times are emotional, but unfortunately, their conduct is subject to a certain regulatory supervision by the appellate court.”
“A jury might make it fifty. I don’t know. You don’t know.”
Fosdick laughed. “Come, come. Mrs. Cool. Your client wasn’t damaged very greatly.”
“No?” Bertha Cool asked with a rising inflection. “You think not?”
She saw that this worried Fosdick. “We feel that under the circumstances our own physician should be given an opportunity to examine the young woman.”
“All in good time,” Bertha said.
“What do you mean by that?”
“You can get a court order.”
“But we don’t want to go to court.”
“I mean after you get dragged into court, you can get a court order.”
“Are we going to be dragged into court?”
“You don’t think for a minute that we’re going to let your man pull a stunt like that, and then simply send him a box of candy or a birthday card, do you?”
“Aren’t you being a bit unreasonable, Mrs. Cool?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Look here. Suppose we settle this thing on a basis that will really make you some money. Your client’s injuries didn’t amount to much, but, for obvious reasons, we dislike very much to go to court. Suppose we say three thousand dollars cash, right on the nail?”
Bertha threw back her head and laughed.
“I’ll tell you what I’ll do,” Fosdick said, leaning forward. “I’ll make it five.”
Bertha, afraid to let him see her eyes, said, “You don’t realize how ridiculous you are.”
“But five thousand! Surely, Mrs. Cool, that’s an enormous settlement.”
“You think so?”
“What are you expecting to get?”
Bertha looked at him then. “All the traffic will bear,” she said.
“You’ve got the offer now,” Fosdick announced, getting to his feet. “That’s the extreme limit. I was going to come up to three today and not go up to five until after suit had been filed. Those were my instructions. I’ve taken it on myself to give you the break and let you have my final offer now.”
“Nice of you,” Bertha said.
“You have my card,” Fosdick announced with dignity. ‘You can telephone me when you’re ready to accept.”
“Don’t stick around waiting for the phone to ring.”
“And,” Fosdick announced, “needless to say, this is an offer of compromise. It is not permissible in evidence. It is not an admission of liability, and, unless it is accepted within reasonable time, it will be withdrawn.”
With elaborate carelessness, Bertha said, “Withdraw it now if you want to. It’s okay by me.”
Fosdick pretended not to hear her, but left the room with the greatest dignity.
Bertha Cool waited only until she felt certain he had reached the elevator; then she bustled out to the outer office. “Elsie, take a telegram to Donald.”
“Another one?”
“Yes.”
Elsie Brand held her pencil poised over the notebook.
Bertha Cool started dictating a telegram.
DONALD DEAR YOU HAVE BEEN VERY NICE AND THOUGHTFUL TO SEND BERTHA ALL OF YOUR IDEAS. MY VERY BEST THANKS. DONALD LOVER TELL ME WHY SHOULD JOSEPHINE DELL LIE TO ME ABOUT THE ACCIDENT? WHY SHOULD SHE BE WILLING TO SACRIFICE A FAT SETTLEMENT IN ORDER TO KEEP FROM TELLING EXACTLY WHAT HAPPENED AT THE TIME OF THE ACCIDENT? WIRE BERTHA COLLECT. LOTS OF LOVE AND BEST WISHES TO YOU.
“Is that,” Elsie asked dryly, “all?”
“That’s all.”
“And that other telegram. It’s in on your desk I believe — do you want to send that?”
“Good heavens, no!” Bertha said. “Take that telegram, tear it up, put it in the wastebasket. Even tear that page out of your notebook. I must have been terribly angry when I dictated it. Donald certainly is a smart little devil.”
Elsie Brand’s smile was enigmatic. “Was there,” she asked “anything else?”
“That,” Bertha announced, “is all.”