Two days later, a man I had helped in business papers when I had first started practice appeared in my office. He looked sleek, well-fed, and well-dressed, a far different picture than the lean and seedy fellow I had first seen two years earlier trying to get his wits around the intricacies of legal affairs.

"My partner and I are forever in your debt, Ben," he insisted. "Your wit in protecting our firm in its infancy from Astor's thugs in fancy dress has brought us great prosperity in spite of the American Fur Company's worst efforts to throttle us. We're selling pelts as far away as London, and will soon own half of Boston if fashions keep up this way!!"

"Well, Johann, I am delighted that my services to you proved of value", I replied, anxious to return to my case-load. "You are well-organized, which is, I understand, more than one can say for the Astor gang."

"Too true, too true!" he replied, reeking joviality. "And there is a small token of our appreciation for value delivered, in this case". He handed me a large parcel, of distinct weight, and waited like an anxious boy while I opened it. Inside was a large, flat, well-made cherrywood gun-case. I opened it to reveal the most beautiful pair of matched derringers I had ever seen, the best that Derringer's Philadelphia firm could offer, by the look of them. They had mother-of-pearl handles and fancy silver-plated chambers, intricately engraved with scrollwork, true works of art. I caught my breath.

"They are beautiful!", I told him. "But I cannot accept them. It would be improper."

"Nonsense, boy!!", he boomed. "You are too valuable to walk these streets without any protection. We insist that you accept them as a well-earned bonus. Enter them in your books, if you must, but take them you shall!".

What can I say? Such blandishments are often an ordinary part of doing business in the world, and I succumbed to the force of custom, and accepted the pistols. They were remarkable in that their cartridges were of the new center-fire variety, which had only begun to be seen in Saint Louis, and I felt quite proud of them. They had two barrels, over-and-under, also scrolled in the most delicate tracery. I promised Mister Buchet I would carry them with me when I "walked the streets", as he put it.

It occurred to me to find out what I could about the man who had so bruised poor Sophie's face, and I made a discrete enquiry with Mister Buchet if he knew anything about a man calling himself Lefrenier Chouvin.

"One of the worst in Saint Louis!! Fancies himself a sort of general of men, but the truth is, he is a bully, who keeps bullies around him. Makes his money strong-arming for businesses who stoop to that kind of thing, inciting mobs, twisting the arms of politicians, and so on. I think his men have done some dirty work for Astor's gang from time to time. Absolute blackguard -- I warn you to have nothing to do with him."

"I shall certainly take your advice, Sir. Fortunately, I have had no dealings with him, and shall plan to avoid any in the future. Thank you for the wisdom. And please thank your partner for me for this generous gift, which I am only accepting because you did a little arm-twisting of your own, sir!" He laughed.

When he left, I returned to composing a Petition on behalf of the beautiful Sophie and her fiery-spirited mother. They were in a dicey situation, and the Courts were not often sympathetic to claims of freedom in Coloreds in these parts; but it was the only avenue open for justice for my clents.