"Eh? Never carried one in my life."
"A pity. Well, have one on you next time you're here to see me. Tomorrow, I hope. Jake, Hedrick is a good doctor, conceded—but he won't tell me anything. Just this week I asked him whose body this had been—and he wasn't even polite enough to lie; he just told me that it was none of my business."
"It isn't."
"Huh?"
"Remember the contract I worked out? It said—"
"Never read it. Your pidgin."
"I told you; you didn't listen. Donor's privacy to be respected unless donor specifically grants permission to breach it... and even then his estate must confirm after death. In this case neither proviso was met. So you can never be told."
"Oh, rats. I can find out, once I'm up and around. I would never publicize it; I just want to know."
"No doubt you will find out. But 1 won't be a party to breaching a contract with the dead."
"Hmm. Jake, you're a stiff-necked old bastard; it wouldn't do any harm. All right, all right. But get me that mirror. Look, you can get me one now. Go into my bathroom, usual excuse, and look around. Search. Four or five small mirrors in there, drawers and such—or were the last time I was on my feet. Almost certainly still are. Just don't let a nurse see it. In your pocket. Or under your jacket."
"Why don't you simply ask for one?"
"Because they won't let me have one, Jake. You may think I'm paranoid but I am being persecuted by this high-and-mighty doctor. Won't let me see my new face in a mirror. Okay, it's probably scarred; I don't care. Won't let me look at myself at all. When they work on me they put up a chin screen; I haven't even seen my hands. Would you believe it, I don't even know what color I am. Am I a soul? Or a honk? Or something else? It's maddening."
"Johann, it might be literally maddening for you to see yourself. Before you have your strength back."
"What? Oh, be your age, Jake; you know me better than that. If I'm the ugliest thing since wart hogs and covered with purple stripes, I can take it." Johann grinned. "I was ugly as sin before the operation; any change for the worse can't be great. But I tell you no lie, old friend; if they keep treating me like a retarded child, they really will drive me off the rails."
Salomon sighed. "I'm sorry to have to tell you this, Johann, but it is no news to me that they won't let you see yourself in a mirror—"
"What?"
"Steady down. I've discussed it with Dr. Hedrick and with the psychiatrist working with him. They are of the opinion that you could suffer a severe emotional shock—one that might give you a grave setback, even (as you, say) ‘drive you off the rails'—if you see your new self before you are fully well and strong."
Johann Smith did not answer at once. Then he said quietly, "Pig whistle. I know I'm physically something else now. What harm do they think it could do me?"
"The psychiatrist mentioned the possibility of a split personality."
"Move around and look me in the eyes. Jake Salomon, do you believe that?"
"My opinion is neither relevant nor competent. I am not going to buck your physicians. Nor help you to outwit them."
"So that's how the wind sets, Jake...I am sorry to be forced to say this—but you are not the only lawyer in this city."
"So I know. I am sorry—truly sorry!—to be forced to say this, Johann—but I am the only lawyer you can turn to."
"What do you mean?"
"Johann, you are now a ward of the Court. I am your guardian."
Johann Smith was slow to answer, then barely whispered: "Conspiracy. I never thought it of you, Jake."
"Johann, Johann!"
"Do you mean to keep me locked up forever? If not, what's the price to turn me loose? Is the Judge in on it? And Hedrick?"
Salomon controlled himself. "Please, Johann, let me speak. I'm going to pretend that you never said what you did say... and I'll have a transcript of the proceedings brought here for you to see. Hell, I'll have the Judge himself fetch them. But you've got to listen."
"I'm listening. How can I help listening?—I'm a prisoner."
"Johann, you will cease being a ward as soon as you are able to appear in court—in person—and convince the Judge—Judge McCampbell, it is, an honest man as you know—convince .McCampbell that you are no longer non compos mentis. He took the step reluctantly—and I had to fight to be named your guardian, as I was not the petitioner."
"So? And who asked to have me committed?"
"Johanna Darlington Seward, et aliae—meaningyour other three granddaughters, too."
"I see," Johann said slowly. "Jake, I owe you an apology."
Salomon snorted. "For what? How can you do or say anything calling for an apology when you are legally non compos mentis?"
"Whew! Hand me the traditional piece of snuff; that was razor sharp. Dear little Johanna—I should have drowned her at birth. Her mother, my daughter Evelyn, used to shove her into my lap and remind me that she was my namesake. Jake, the only thing that brat ever did for me was to pee on my trousers—on purpose. So June and Marla and Elinor are in it, too. Not surprising."
"Johann, they darn near made it. I had to resort to everything short of treason to get it into Judge McCampbell's court. Even then, only the fact that I have held your general power of attorney for an unbroken fifteen years kept the Court from naming Mrs. Seward as guardian and conservator. That and one other thing."
"What other thing?"
"Their stupidity. If they had shot for guardianship right off, they might have made it. Instead their first move was to try to have you declared legally dead."
"Well! Jake, do you suppose—later—that I can cut them out of my will entirely?"
"You can do better than that; you can outlive them. Now."
"Mmm, yes, I suppose I can. I will! It'll be a pleasure."
"That move wasn't serious, just stupid. Stupid lawyer. Took four days for the expert witnesses to unwind, took the Court four minutes to rule in accordance with ‘Estate of Parsons v. Rhode Island.' Hoped I had seen the last of them then; that diploma-mill shyster seemed pretty cowed. Then Parkinson got into it... and his lawyer is not stupid."
"Parkinson'? Our boy Parky, our idiot ex-director?"
"The same."
"Hmm. Von Ritter was right; it doesn't pay to humiliate a man. But how could Parky show an interest?"
"He didn't. That Parkinson put them up to it is simply a conclusion but a firm one—Parkinson's mother-in-law's lawyer and Parkinson himself present every day in court, a happy spectator. Johann, I didn't dare ask that the matter be continued during your recovery; our own expert witnesses were unwilling to testify that you would ever be yourself again, able to manage your own affairs. So we stipulated your temporary lack of competence—surprised ‘em, caught ‘em unprepared—and I had our attorney move that I be appointed your guardian pro tem. Made it. But Johann, as soon as this was in the wind I started shuffling stock around. For several weeks Teal held a big chunk of your voting stock—Teal is okay; you made a good choice—Teal held all of your stock that I now hold, using money I lent him. An open transaction that could be verified, none of this ‘ten dollars and other valuable considerations' dodge. During that period, your stock that I had sold to Teal using my money, plus Teal's stock that he already had, plus what I have long held, was voting control... because I knew that if I lost, the next day Parkinson would show up with proxies for your stock—signed by your granddaughters—and demand a stockholders' meeting and kick me out of the chair and fire Teal as president. Yet I didn't dare buy stock from you myself—or I would go into court as an interested party and the other side might sniff it. It was touch-and-go for a while, Johann."