The Scarlet Letters by Louis Auchincloss Read Free Book Online Page B

it was never proved—widely believed to have instigated the slaughter of two rivals to its gang right here in Manhattan. One of the men was even supposed to have been burned alive."
    Ambrose shuddered. Execution at the stake had been one of his recurrent nightmares. He remembered how in his college days he had bitterly ejected Sir Thomas More from his mental catalogue of historical heroes when he read that the so-called saint had ordered the burning of Anabaptists. Then he shook himself. "But all that's ancient history, Rod. Even if there were officers of the company mixed up in such doings, they must be long dead or retired. There's no point holding the past against perfectly innocent men today."
    "But they're not all dead or retired! The president of the company whom you've just been conferring with, Stanley Foot, was directly involved as a young man in their cross-boundary operations. I even devoted a section of my thesis to him. There was an effort by our feds to indict him, but the smokescreen sent up by shysters reduced it to nothing. Oh, of course, he's the image of respectability now. He's even got a flock of honorary degrees!"
    Ambrose uncomfortably recalled the stout, hearty features of the loud-mouthed, grinning and genial Mr. Foot, the essence of an assured, lower-middle-class cockney Britisher.
    Rod continued. "I got so wrapped up in my thesis that I even thought of taking a year off before law school to develop it into a book. But Mother said we couldn't really afford it. In my opinion American morals have never fully recovered from the blow that era of lawlessness dealt them. I'm sure you will agree now, sir, that a lawyer of your standing at the bar cannot possibly represent such a man as Stanley Foot."
    Ambrose rubbed his eyelids and sighed. "You're not suggesting, are you, Rodney, that any of the gentlemen with whom I have just been in conference are planning—or even contemplating—any such felonies as you have described?"
    "Of course not. Their need for that is over. Now they can do everything according to Hoyle."
    Ambrose ignored his qualification. "And, to your knowledge, do any of these gentlemen engage today in any business practices that are unlawful? Let me put it more strongly. Do they engage in any business activity that is even improper?"
    "Not that I know of."
    "You give them the benefit of a doubt, then?"
    "If I must."
    "Very handsome of you. Well, let me tell you, my friend, what you ought to know without my having to tell you: that the ethics of the bar do not require me to turn my back on a prospective client for sins he may have committed in the past. This goes even more strongly for unproven sins of the very distant past. My only duty is to assure myself of the legality of his present operations. Under any other criterion a host of men might find themselves unable to find counsel. The world is full of closets and closets full of skeletons!"
    "But surely, sir, when you
know
what this man did and got away with! Can you doubt he'd do it again if he thought his business required it?"
    "I don't
know
anything, Rodman. And I'm not going to speculate what goes on in Mr. Foot's mind."
    "But if I could convince you, sir! I've still got my old college notes—"
    "I'm not interested."
    "Then you close your eyes to murder and mayhem! Sir, I would never have believed it of you!"
    "Now you're being impertinent. I must ask you to leave my office before you say anything further that you may regret."
    Rod was livid now. "I'll not only leave this room, sir. I'll leave the firm!" And he turned abruptly to the door.
    "Rod!" Ambrose cried, rising from his seat. "Rod, you can't mean it!"
    "Oh, but I do, sir. I cannot remain a member of a firm that represents Stanley Foot!"
    And he departed.
    Ambrose spent the afternoon in his office, the door shut, refusing to see anyone or to take any calls. It was like a two-hour drowning, and his life crossed and recrossed his mind several times. In the end he