Arthur Biggs had sold his soul to the Devil for, among other things, a million dollars, success in his chosen career, and a beautiful charming wife, said benefits to continue for a year. Being a shrewd, although not overly successful lawyer, Arthur Biggs had written in an escape clause whereby at the end of a year he would have a chance, an even chance, to save his soul and to escape from the Devil. The Devil had accepted the deal, even with the fine print.

Arthur had shortly thereafter received a phone call. "Arthur Biggs?" inquired the voice on the other end. "I am Samuel Potiphar, of Potts, Potts, Potiphar, and Potts, attorney of your late uncle Renfrew. I have just flown in to town, and need to see you."
Arthur was puzzled. "Uncle Renfrew? I didn't know I had an Uncle Renfrew. But, I guess you can come over. Most any cab driver will know where the YMCA is."
"Excellent, Mr. Biggs. We will be there shortly."

As the line went dead, Arthur quickly set to straightening up the room. He wondered about the other's use of 'we', debating whether Mr. Potiphar was a king and using the royal 'we', but decided that was unlikely. He began glancing around the room trying to see if it could hold more than one visitor.

There was a knock on the door twenty minutes later. Arthur opened it and there were indeed two people. He assumed the distinguished gentleman was Mr. Potiphar, since the other was the most beautiful redheaded woman Arthur had ever seen. He was immediately smitten.
Potiphar introduced himself, then said, "This is my legal secretary, Miranda Hollister."
Arthur shook hands with Potiphar, saying, "Good afternoon, Mr. Potiphar," then with the secretary, continuing, "Good afternoon, Miss Hollister," hoping he wouldn't be corrected on the "Miss." He was rewarded with a smile that seemed to say her feelings reciprocated his. "Won't you sit down, please?" He waved in the general direction of the two kitchen chairs that made up a large part of his furniture. After his guests were seated, he sat himself down on the edge of the bed.
"This won't take long," said Potiphar. "In brief, you did have an Uncle Renfrew, he died, and he left you a million dollars free and clear, all taxes paid."
"Well," said Arthur, "I'm terribly sorry to hear about dear old Uncle Renfrew, but these things happen. When do I get the money?"
"It will take a few weeks to get all the details ironed out, but we should be able to set up a drawing account for you in a day or two. I plan to leave Miss Hollister here to take care of the paperwork for you. If, of course, you have no objections?"
"Oh, no, no objections at all!" said Arthur hurriedly. A quick peek at Miss Hollister gave him the impression that she had no objections either.

Miranda Hollister was a very efficient legal secretary. She had a drawing account set up for him in one day, and in less than two weeks she had all the paperwork taken care of. Rather than flying back to the distant city where Potts, Potts, Potiphar, and Potts had their office, however, she sent Mr. Potiphar a report which ended with her resignation. A week later she became Mrs. Arthur Biggs.

•

Miranda Biggs was very interested in furthering Arthur's career, because, as she phrased it, "Even a million dollars won't last forever, and a good income couldn't hurt." So she continued to act as an unofficial legal secretary, helping Arthur with work he brought home from the office.
"Arthur, darling, what's this clause in the Smithers papers here?" she asked one night.

Arthur had seen those papers so many times he no longer paid much attention to what they said, but when she asked, he took a closer look. "Oh my gosh! This isn't right! This was OK a month or two ago, but it's wrong now. I'll have to get it fixed up tomorrow. Thanks, darling." Arthur gave her a big hug and a kiss, and then, well, let's just note that Arthur and Miranda were young and very much in love.
First thing the next morning, Arthur marched into the office of Mr. Lyttle, senior partner of Lyttle and Midling, and showed him the error in the Smithers papers.
"Good Lord, Arthur! This error could have cost us hundreds of thousands of dollars. The firm owes you a real debt of gratitude."
"Thank you, Mr. Lyttle."
"More than that, Arthur. I've been watching you, and I like your work. We're going to make you a partner in the firm. Lyttle, Midling, and Biggs. How does that sound to you, Arthur?"
"That sounds great, Mr. Lyttle. Thank you!" Arthur left the office and ran back to his desk to call Miranda and tell her.
"Oh, how wonderful, Arthur!" she said. "I wish I was there to kiss you, but believe me, I'll save up the kiss until you get home."

Arthur's only misgiving was that being a partner in Lyttle, Midling, and Biggs was definitely being a big frog in a small puddle. But he kept his eyes open, and a month later his next big chance came.

The big Crowley scandal had just erupted, and the firm was representing one Robert Jensen, a minor figure in the case. Arthur was assigned to handle him, and arranged for him to come in for an interview. Questioning Jensen, Arthur was astounded to discover that Jensen was in possession of facts that would break the case wide open.
"Mr. Jensen, are you sure of what you're saying?"
"Yes, Mr. Biggs, I'm absolutely certain. I was there, I saw it with my own eyes."
"Well, are you willing to testify to this at the trial, under oath?"
"Certainly. I stand to gain from getting this scandal cleaned up. Why wouldn't I testify?"

Arthur practically broke a finger dialing the District Attorney's office. Jensen's appearance as the prosecution's star witness catapulted Lyttle, Midling, and Biggs into the limelight, and brought them all the cases they could handle, and then some. Arthur was now a big frog in a big pond.

The year passed swiftly but happily for Arthur. He was loved by his wife, respected by his colleagues, and generally feared by opposition lawyers, for he had an uncanny knack of coming up with exactly what he needed to win a case. But the year did pass.

•

Arthur found himself on the fiftieth floor of a tall building. At least, he assumed it was the fiftieth floor, because there was a big sign saying 'Fifty' on the wall. He was in a hallway, opposite the doors of a pair of elevators. There was a smell of brimstone in the air. Arthur looked at the two elevators. The doors were open, and instead of the usual columns of numbered buttons, each had a single button labeled 'Down.'

Then Arthur looked behind him, and discovered the source of the brimstone odor. The Devil was standing there.
"Hello, Arthur," said the Devil. "Have a nice year?"
"Yes," replied Arthur. "And I hope to have many more like it, as I have an even chance to escape your clutches. You do remember that part of the deal, don't you?"
"Oh, certainly, Arthur. I never overlook the fine print, or the escape clauses. After all, I'm a lawyer too, you know." Arthur looked surprised, but the Devil continued, "Your even chance to escape is right before you. These two elevators both go down. One goes down to the lobby of this building, while the other is the Down Express to Hell. All you have to do is choose."
Arthur considered the situation for a while. The Devil stood there, appearing not at all impatient. Finally Arthur reached a decision. He strode into the right hand elevator and pushed the button. The doors closed and he started down.

When the doors opened again and Arthur found himself in the lobby of the building he breathed a sigh of relief. He resisted a temptation to get down on his knees and kiss the lobby floor. He had made the best choice he could, but there was always some chance of being wrong. Arthur went out the glass door to the street and hailed a cab to take him home.
It was as Arthur reached home that things started to go wrong. He reached in his pocket to pay, and found that his wallet was missing. He told the cabbie, "I forgot my wallet when I went out. I'll just run in and get the money to pay you. I won't be a minute." He reached for the door handle, but the driver flicked a switch on the dash and suddenly all the doors were locked, as was the sliding glass panel between Arthur and the driver.
"Lotsa luck, buddy," the cabbie's voice came over the little speaker. "I had fares like you before. Ferget the wallet, in the front and out the back, and the company docks my pay. No way!" The little speaker went off with an audible click, and Arthur could see the man pick up his mike and call in.
They sat there for fifteen minutes, with the meter running of course, until a police car arrived. The cabbie rolled down his window and talked to the policeman, but Arthur was unable to hear. Finally the cabbie unlocked the doors and Arthur got out.
The policeman turned to Arthur and said, "Sir, the driver has informed me that you won't pay his fare."
"Officer," said Arthur, "I seem to have forgotten my wallet. I have money in the house, I just have to go in and get it."
"Is this your house?"
"Yes, officer, it is."
"May I please see some identification with your address to confirm that?"
"My identification is in my wallet," said Arthur in exasperation. "If I had my wallet, I would have the money to pay and we wouldn't have this trouble."
"Sir, if you don't have any identification, I will have to accompany you inside. And I'll have to see some sort of positive ID, with a photo, before I let you take anything."
Arthur was annoyed, and somewhat embarrassed at having to be escorted into his own home by a policeman. What if the neighbors saw, he thought. But he had no choice, so he went in with the officer, found his wallet, satisfied the officer as to his identity, and finally went back out and paid the cabbie. The meter had been running the whole time, of course. He got a little satisfaction by only tipping the driver on the part of the fare from the building to the house. The driver's shouted "Cheapskate!" as he drove away was small consolation.
Miranda came in about an hour later, arms full of grocery bags. "How come you're home this early, dear?" she asked.
"Oh, I had a bit of a headache," Arthur lied. He had no intention of trying to explain the true situation.
"Well, you just relax while I fix dinner. I have a surprise for you tonight, you're going to love it."
Arthur's taste buds started to tingle, for Miranda, in addition to her other qualities, was a terrific cook. But an hour later he was surprised in quite a different way as she spooned two unidentifiable, and unappetizing, heaps of something onto his plate.
"There!" she announced proudly. "This is going to be so good for you. It's the latest thing."
"What is it?"
"Well, this," she pointed at one pile, "is bulgar, it's sort of like rice, almost, and this one," she pointed at the other, "is lentils, that's beans, more or less. It's Guru Somebody-or-other's diet, very healthy."
Arthur cautiously tasted one, then the other. "Not much flavor, where's the salt?" He looked around the table.
"Oh, no, naughty, naughty! Salt is bad for you. I threw it all out." She began to eat, pausing only to murmur, "Mmmm, this is good." By the time she had emptied her plate, Arthur had eaten only a quarter of his food, but he pushed the rest of it away and went to bed hungry.
The next morning, as he was leaving for work, Miranda handed him a brown paper bag. He looked inside and found two plastic containers. "What is this?"
"Silly, that's your lunch. Leftovers from last night."
At lunch time he opened the lunch and looked at it, but he couldn't manage to stuff it down. He buzzed his secretary and told her to send out for a Big Mac. When she brought it in, she shook her head and said, "I don't know how you manage to choke down this tasteless junk food. I can't stomach it."
Arthur looked at the Big Mac, and at the brown bag, and back at the secretary, and said, "Bev, I once thought so too, but I have a feeling that under the right circumstances this junk food will taste like ambrosia!"
All in all, he was in a foul mood already when Bev burst into his office in a panic that afternoon. "Mr. Biggs! Mr. Biggs! Have you heard?"
"Heard what?"
"Mr. Lyttle has been fooling around with Mrs. Midling, and Mr. Midling just found out! He can't figure out if he should sue for divorce or what, because he's been fooling around with Mrs. Lyttle! But they're definitely breaking up the partnership. Oh, my God, we'll all be out of jobs, what'll I do?" By the time she finished she was more wailing than talking. Arthur just sat there stunned.
Her prediction proved extremely accurate. It took only a week or two to wind things down, and then everyone was out in the street. A lot of clients went elsewhere entirely, but Arthur managed to hang on to a few of his best and set up private practice in the den of the house. The worst thing about that was now he had to eat Miranda's health foods for lunch as well as for dinner.
Arthur enjoyed private practice, and he was picking up a few new clients and doing pretty well. Then he got a phone call.
"Mr. Biggs, this is Arnold Pettifog, of Pettifog and Scruple, Auditors. We're closing out the books of Lyttle, Midling, and Biggs, and there's a bit of a discrepancy."
"Oh, what's the problem?"
"Well, there's several million dollars missing from the Thomas trust, and one other missing thing."
Arthur choked when he heard the size of the 'bit of a discrepancy'. He swallowed a few times, then said "The Thomas trust? I think Pete Lamb was handling that one, wasn't he?"
"Yes, but Pete Lamb is the other missing thing!"
"Well, I guess you ought to get out a warrant for him then. What's it got to do with me?"
"Mr. Biggs, you were a partner in the firm, and it was never incorporated, so you are personally liable for one third of the missing money. There will probably be a court order and judgment served on you in a few days."

This prediction proved distressingly accurate, and the judgment, when served, wiped out his savings and forced him to sell the house besides. The new house, all he could afford, didn't have a den he could use for a private law office, but it didn't matter, since all of his clients deserted him at this point. All except the few who couldn't, or didn't intend to, pay.
By the time he finally got a job, as a law clerk in a big corporation, the second house had to be sold too, and he and his wife were living in a small one bedroom apartment.
When Arthur came home one night, Miranda greeted him with, "Hi, Turkey!" and giggles. He could smell the gin on her breath. They sat down at the cramped little table in the kitchenette and she plopped a spoonful of something on his plate.
"What is this junk?" he asked. "It looks different from your usual bulgar and lentils. Smells just as bad, though."
"Oh, stop complaining. This is soybeans, we can't afford the other stuff any more, but this is just as good for you. Shut up and eat it."
The argument degenerated into a real fight, and Arthur ended up sleeping on the couch, an arrangement which threatened to become permanent. About the only advantage was that it kept him away from the smell of gin. In order to more fully counter the gin problem, however, Arthur started dropping into a nearby bar on the way home from work. He figured that whiskey on his breath would counter the gin on hers.

This soon developed into a social group with some of his pals from the office. Arthur, after the second drink, would start to talk about his wife. "When we first got married, she was terrific. Good cook, real beautiful, even won a beauty pageant once. Lately, though, she's a real pain in the butt!" Apparently at least one of his pals from the office didn't agree, because when Arthur came home unexpectedly early one day, almost a year after his troubles started, he found said pal from the office in bed with Miranda.

Arthur decided he'd had enough. He grabbed a few things from his dresser and threw them into a suitcase, and he left. He took a bus at random to another city, got a room at the Y, and found a job at a fast-food joint. That job lasted two weeks, then he was fired.
"You're overqualified, and always talking big and snooty. It annoys the other workers," the manager told him.

Over the next month he went through several more exciting jobs, like stock clerk in a supermarket. None of the jobs paid more than minimum wage, and none lasted more than a week or two.

Finally Arthur decided to end it all. He got hold of a bottle of whiskey and some sleeping pills, and used the one to wash down the other. Having done so, he sat himself down in a cold November alley and waited to go to sleep.

•

Arthur found himself on the fiftieth floor of a tall building. At least, he assumed it was the fiftieth floor, because there was a big sign saying 'Fifty' on the wall. He was in a hallway, opposite the doors of a pair of elevators. There was a smell of brimstone in the air. Arthur looked at the two elevators. The doors were open, and instead of the usual columns of numbered buttons, each had a single button labeled 'Down.'

Then Arthur looked behind him, and discovered the source of the brimstone odor. The Devil was standing there.
"Hello, Arthur," said the Devil. "Have a nice year?"
"No, not really," he replied. "But then, I guess I should have expected you to cheat. You agreed that I would have an even chance to escape from you, to go back to Earth and continue my life. You've obviously been interfering with my life on Earth."

The Devil replied, "No, I didn't cheat. You had your chance. But I never promised to tell you whether you had succeeded in making the correct choice and returned to Earth." He waved his forked tail and a cloud of brimstone fumes enveloped Arthur.

•

Arthur was sitting in the cold alley. He had thrown up all over himself before the pills had a chance to work. He looked up and saw a policeman and Miranda standing over him.
"Thought you'd get away, did you?" she asked. "See what I have here, lowlife? This is a warrant for your arrest for non-support." She turned to the policeman and said, "Arrest this bum, officer."
He could see this was going to be a Hell of a year.

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