One by one the King’s Council present in court were called upon; and then, after one or two of the junior bar—habitués of that particular court—had each been given his opportunity by name, came the concluding, “Any more motions behind the bar?” and Tempest rose, and in a few words said that the parties concerned had agreed to ask his lordship to appoint them jointly to be receivers, pending the trial of the issue. The judge promptly assented to the proposal, and then at once the court began to empty of the public, baulked of the anticipated revelation; but Tempest lingered, curious to see what might happen. A tedious dispute as to a right-of-way injunction followed, but the lady sat on, apparently keenly interested. Concluding it to be a ruse to mask any apparent concern with the matter just concluded, and knowing she would be safe in the care of Yardley and Craven, Tempest signed to his clerk to collect his papers, and took his way to the King’s Bench side, where another case awaited him. Marston followed him into the passage.
“Well, it unearthed the lady,” said the barrister.
“Yes, and I saw Yardley was there.”
“So was Craven, his chief assistant. By the way, what instructions did you give him, Marston?”
“He is to find out who she is and where she lives. I wish she had raised her veil in court. I’d have liked to have seen her.”
“So should I; but I never for a moment expected that. She’ll be much too downy a bird. How old would you guess her to be, Marston?”
“Forty to fifty.”
“Yes, that’s what I put her down to be; but one really cannot tell under that veil of hers. It’s only guessing from her figure and manner. She might really be anything from thirty to seventy.”
Late that evening Yardley came round to Tempest’s chambers.
“Well, who is she, Yardley?” was the latter’s greeting.