"Your wife, ha!" cried the lawyer, rubbing his palms softly together, as was his habit when a gleam of villainy more exquisite than usual dawned upon him. "Perhaps not, we shall see! may want her for a witness! but we can tell better when the case is laid out. Now go on; remember that your lawyer is your physician; must have all the symptoms of a case, all its parts, all its capabilities. Now just consider me as your conscience; not exactly that, because one sometimes cheats conscience, you know—after all there is nothing better—think that I am your lawyer—that I have your life in my hands—that I must know the truth in order to save it—cheat conscience, if you like, but never cheat the lawyer who tries your case, or the doctor who feels your pulse."
"I have nothing to conceal. I am ready to tell you all," answered the old man.
The calmness with which this was said took the lawyer somewhat aback. He had expected that more of his cajoling eloquence would be necessary, before his client would be won to speak frankly. His astonishment was greatly increased, therefore, when the old man in his grave and truthful way related everything connected with the death of William Leicester exactly as it had happened. Nothing could be more discouraging than this narrative, as it presented itself to the lawyer. Had the man been absolutely guilty, his counsel would have found far less difficulty in arranging some grounds of defence. Without some opening for legal chicanery the lawyer felt himself lost. Unprincipled as he was, there still existed in his mind some little feeling of interest in any case he undertook, independent of the money to be received. He loved the excitement, the trickery, the manœuvering of a desperate defence. He had a sort of fellow feeling for the clever criminal that sharpened his talent, and sent him into court with the spirit of an old gambler.
But a case like this was something new. He did not for a moment doubt the old man's story; there was truth breathing in every word, and written in every line of that honest countenance. Indeed it was this very conviction that dampened the lawyer's ardor in the case. It seemed completely removed from his line of position. He had so long solemnly declared his belief in the innocence of men whom he knew to be steeped in guilt, that he felt how impossible it was for him to utter the truth before a jury with any kind of gravity. His only resource was to make this plain, solemn case as much like a falsehood as possible.
"And so you were entirely alone in the room?"
"Entirely."
The lawyer shook his head.
"You have no witnesses of his coming in, or of the conversation, except this old lady and your grandchild?"
"None!"
"Your neighbors, how were you situated there? No kind fellow in the next casement who heard a noise, and peeped through the key-hole, ha?"