"Well," said Sydney, rising from his seat, "there can be no use in continuing the conversation." And he added, in a lighter tone, "I am sorry, Mr. Larmer, that I should be compelled to decline the first brief you have offered me."
Larmer went back to his office a little crestfallen, but not at all sorry that he had had this interview with Campion. He was better prepared now for the course which the trial was likely to follow. He had no doubt that Campion would be bold enough to undertake the prosecution, and that he would do his best to get a conviction against Walcott, whom he manifestly disliked. He was less sanguine from that moment as to the result of his efforts; but, of course, he did not relax them. He retained Mr. Charles Milton, a man with an excellent reputation in criminal business, and one who, as he thought, would do his utmost to avoid losing a case to Campion.
Milton, in effect, took the matter up with much zeal. He had (so far as his professional instinct allowed him) accepted the theory of Walcott's guilt, rather respecting him, if the truth were known, for refusing to put up any longer with the persecutions of a revolted wife. But he had no sooner received his brief in the case than he was perfectly convinced of Walcott's innocence. The story told him by Mr. Larmer seemed not only natural but transparently true, and when he heard that his club-mate of the Oligarchy was actively interested for the other side, he determined that no effort on his part should be wanting to secure a verdict.
Not that he had any grudge against Sydney; but they belonged to the same profession, the same party, and the same club—three conceivable reasons for Mr. Milton's zeal.
Thus Alan's defence was well provided for, and Mr. Larmer began to feel more easy in his mind.
When Alan heard that the prosecution was likely to be conducted by Sydney Campion, he took the news quietly, though it was a very serious matter for him. He did not doubt its seriousness, but his heart had already fallen so low that it could scarcely sink lower. He saw at once that the motive of Lettice's brother in angling for this brief (as Alan concluded that he must have done) was to protect the interests of Lettice; and so far, the fact was a matter of congratulation. It was his own great desire, as Larmer knew, to prevent her name from being mentioned, and to avoid reference to anything in which she had been indirectly concerned, even though the reference might have been made without using her name. When Larmer pointed out that this quixotism, as he called it, would make it almost impossible for his counsel to show the extreme malignity of his wife and the intolerable persecution to which he had been subjected, he had answered shortly and decisively,
"Let it be impossible. The first object is not my defence, but hers."
"Your vision is distorted," Larmer had said angrily. "This may seem to you right and generous, but I tell you it is foolish and unnecessary."
"I will not be guided in this particular thing," Alan rejoined, "by your reason, but by my feeling. An acquittal at her cost would mean a lifelong sorrow."
"If I know anything of women, Miss Campion, who does not quite hate you, would insist on having the whole story told in open court. Perhaps she may return to England in time for the trial, and then she can decide the point herself."