"We might perhaps contrive to tide it over till she is of age," said the Solicitor-General, who was a sweet-mannered, mild man among his friends, though he could cross-examine a witness off his legs,—or hers, if the necessity of the case required him to do so.
"Of course we could do that, Sir William. What is a year in such a case as this?"
"Not much among lawyers, is it, Mr. Flick? You think that we shouldn't bring our case into court."
"It is a good case, Sir William, no doubt. There's the woman,—Countess, we will call her,—ready to swear, and has sworn, that she was the old Earl's wife. All the people round call her the Countess. The Earl undoubtedly used to speak of her as the Countess, and send her little dribbles of money, as being his Countess, during the ten years and more after he left Lovel Grange. There is the old priest who married them."
"The devil's in it if that is not a good case," said Mr. Hardy.
"Go on, Mr. Flick," said the Solicitor-General.
"I've got all the documentary evidence of course, Sir William."
"Go on, Mr. Flick."
Mr. Flick scratched his head. "It's a very heavy interest, Sir William."
"No doubt it is. Go on."