The Early Asimov. Volume 2

Judge Gimbel stared at Turnbull. 'Have you anything to say?' he asked. 'The argument of the defense would seem to have every merit with it. Unless you can produce some sort of evidence as to the identity of your client, I have no alternative but to find for the defense.'

For a moment there was a silent tableau. Wilson triumphant, Turnbull furiously frustrated.

How could you identify a ghost?

And then came the quietly amused voice from the witness chair.

'This thing has gone far enough,' it said above the sizzle and splatter of its own leaking blood. 'I believe I can present proof that will satisfy the court.'

Wilson 's face fell with express-elevator speed. Turnbull held his breath, afraid to hope.

Judge Gimbel said, 'You are under oath. Proceed.'

There was no other sound in the courtroom as the voice said, 'Mr. Harley, here, spoke of a visit to his uncle in nineteen thirty-eight. I can vouch for that. They spent a night and a day together. They weren't alone. I was there.'

No one was watching Russell Harley, or they might have seen the sudden sick pallor that passed over his face.

The voice, relentless, went on. 'Perhaps I shouldn't have eavesdropped as I did, but old Zeb never had any secrets from me anyhow. I listened to what they talked about. Young Harley was working for a bank in Philadelphia at the time. His first big job. He needed money, and needed it bad. There was a shortage in his department. A woman named Sally -'

'Hold on!' Wilson yelled. 'This has nothing to do with your identification of yourself. Keep to the point!'

But Turnbull had begun to comprehend. He was shouting, too, almost too excited to be coherent. 'Your honor, my client must be allowed to speak. If he shows knowledge of an intimate conversation between the late Mr. Harley and the defendant, it would be certain proof that he enjoyed the late Mr. Harley's confidence, and thus, Q.E.D., that he is no other than the astral entity who occupied Harley Hall for so long!'

Gimbel nodded sharply. 'Let me remind counsel for the defense that this is his own witness. Mr. Jenkins, continue.'

The voice began again, 'As I was saying, the woman's name -'

'Shut up, damn you!' Harley yelled. He sprang upright, turned beseechingly toward the judge. 'He is twisting it! Make him stop! Sure, I knew my uncle had a ghost. He's it, all right, curse his black soul! He can have the house if he wants it - I'll clear out. I'll clear out of the whole damned state!'

He broke off into babbling and turned about wildly. Only the intervention of a marshal kept him from hurtling out of the courtroom.

Banging of the gavel and hard work by the court clerk and his staff restored order in the courtroom. When the room had returned almost to normalcy, Judge Gimbel, perspiring and a

Wilson shrugged morosely. 'No, your honor.'

'Counsel for the plaintiff?'

'Nothing, your honor. I rest my case.'

Gimbel plowed a hand through his sparse hair and blinked. 'In that case,' he said, 'I find for the plaintiff. An order is entered hereby that the defendant, Russell Joseph Harley, shall remove from the premises of Harley Hall all spells, pentagrams, talismans and other means of exorcism employed; that he shall cease and desist from making any attempts, of whatever nature, to evict the tenant in the future; and that Henry Jenkins, the plaintiff, shall be permitted the full use and occupancy of the premises designated as Harley Hall for the full term of his natural - ah - existence.' The gavel banged. 'The case is closed.'

'Don't take it so hard,' said a mild voice behind Russell Harley. He whirled surlily. Nicholls was coming up the street after him from the courthouse, Wilson in tow.

Nicholls said, 'You lost the case, but you've still got your life. Let me buy you a drink. In here, perhaps.'

He herded them into a cocktail lounge, sat them down before they had a chance to object. He glanced at his expensive wrist watch. 'I have a few minutes,' he said. 'Then I really must be off. It's urgent.'

He hailed a barman, ordered for all. Then he looked at young Harley and smiled broadly as he dropped a bill on the counter to pay for the drinks.

'Harley,' he said, 'I have a motto that you would do well to remember at times like these. I'll make you a present of it, if you like.'

'What is it?'

' "The worst is yet to come."'

Harley snarled and swallowed his drink without replying. Wilson said, 'What gets me is, why didn't they come to us before the trial with that stuff about this charmingly illicit client you wished on me? We'd have had to settle out of court.'

Nicholls shrugged. 'They had their reasons,' he said. 'After all, one case of exorcism, more or less, doesn't matter. But lawsuits set precedents. You're a lawyer, of sorts, Wilson; do you see what I mean?'

'Precedents?' Wilson looked at him slackjawed for a moment; then his eyes widened.

'I see you understand me.' Nicholls nodded. 'From now on in this state - and by virtue of the full-faith-and-credence clause of the Constitution, in every state of the country - a ghost has a legal right to haunt a house!'

'Good lord!' said Wilson. He began to laugh, not loud, but from the bottom of his chest.

Harley stared at Nicholls. 'Once and for all,' he whispered, 'tell me - what's your angle on all this?'

Nicholls smiled again.

'Think about it a while,' he said lightly. 'You'll begin to understand.' He sniffed his wine once more, then sat the glass down gently - And vanished.

 As I've mentioned before, I was never a reader of Weird Tales, and its type of fiction did not captivate me. In 1950, though, when 'Legal Rites' finally appeared, Weird Tales was nearing the end of its thirty-year road and I'm rather glad I made its pages at least once before its end, even if only as half of a collaboration. It was the longest story in the issue and it received the cover.

 'Legal Rites' and 'The Little Man on the Subway' are the only pieces of fiction I ever wrote in collaboration, and I didn't really enjoy the process. Later on in my career, I had occasion to collaborate on four or five non-fiction books and never really enjoyed that either, nor were any of the collaborations successful. I'm essentially a loner and like to take full responsibility for what I write.

 In the case of 'Legal Rites' it seems to me that the begi