Then there was nothing to do until someone showed up— this Bligh or the man from the sheriff’s office. Sing hey for the life of a lawyer, gabbling at machines you naggingly suspected thought you were not so bright as they were.
The Sleepless Secretary said: “Sir or madam as the case may be. Gug-gug-gug. Regret to advise.” Mundin kicked it savagely. It burped and said: “A gentleman is in the outer office, Mrs. Mundin.”
“Come in!” Mundin yelled at the door. Then he said, “Oh, excuse me. Mr. Bligh?”
The man blinked at him and came in cautiously. He looked around and picked out a chair. He wore a hearing aid, Mundin noticed;- perhaps that was why he cocked his head a little.
He said, “That’s right; Norvell Bligh. I—uh—asked Mr. Dworcas if he could recommend a first-class attorney and he—uh—suggested you.”
Mundin said aloofly, “What can I do for you?”
“Well.” Bligh’s eyes roamed nervously around the room. “My wife—that is, I would like to get some information on adoption. I have a step-daughter—my wife’s daughter by her first marriage, you see—and, well, my wife thinks we should arrange about adopting her.”
Good old Del Dworcas, Mundin thought savagely. He knows I belong to the Criminal Bar, and he goes right ahead ——He said, “I’m sorry, Mr. Bligh. I can’t help you. You’ll have to find a civil attorney to handle that for you.”
Bligh touched the control of his hearing aid. “Beg pardon?”
“I said,” Mundin enunciated loudly, “I—can’t—do—it.”
“Oh, I know you can’t,” Bligh said. “Mr. Dworcas explained that. But he said that the civil attorneys would charge an
lot, and you—— That is, since you were a friend of his and I was a friend of his brother, it would be done on a friendly basis. All I need to know, really, is what to do. I don’t think I’d have to have a lawyer in court, do you?”
Mundin pondered hopefully. “Maybe not.” It was questionable practice, no doubt of it, and small thanks to Dworcas for getting him into it Still, if it was just a matter of advice and information—thank God, the corporation boys didn’t have that sewed up yet
He leaned back, covertly looking Bligh over. Not the most imposing figure he had seen, but tolerably well dressed, certainly not a deadbeat. He’d be some land of contract worker, no doubt, getting his regular pay, living hi a G.M.L. house, suffering his wife’s obvious nagging. Mundin said:
‘Tell me the story. First of all, how much—? That is, the court will want to be sure you can earn enough to support the child.”
“Well, I’ve been supporting her for three years. Excuse me, Mr. Mundin, but can we keep this short? I’m on my lunch hour, and Mr. Candella is very fussy about that”
“Certainly. Just give me the facts—age of the child, where the father is and so on.”
Bligh coughed self-consciously. He said, “My name is Nor-vell Bligh. I’m an associate producer for General Recreations, hi charge of Field Day procurement, mostly. My wife is named Virginia. She was married before I met her to a man named Tony Elliston. They—uh—didn’t get along too well. It was a pretty tough experience for her. They had one daughter, Alexandra. Virginia and her first husband, they got divorced, but I understand he’s dead now. Anyway, she got custody, complete. I have the papers here. Alexandra is ten now. Is that all?”
Mundin scribbled rapidly—purely pretense, since the Sleepless Secretary was recording the whole thing automatically. On second thought, he told himself, maybe not pretense at that. “That’s enough for the time being,” he said. “I’ll have to look up—have to discuss this matter with one of my colleagues. If you would care to come back, say, Friday at this time? Fine.”
As Bligh left, looking vaguely alarmed, the Sleepless Sec-
retary told him. “Pending the receipt. Ow-wooo/z. Mrs. Mundin is out of town.”
Mundin turned it off.
Two clients in one day, he thought wonderingly. Anything was possible. Perhaps he wouldn’t, after all, have to let the factory reclaim the secretary and the Scholarship people garni-shee his salary and the landlord toss him out on the street