I was in a very humble lodging in a very humble street, still attended by doctors, and besieged by lawyers and solicitors, who came and went, held consultations, questioned and cross-questioned me with a greedy avidity on themes in which my own interest had long ceased, and which I was gradually learning to think of with absolute aversion.
Ysaffich, whose confidence in our success rose higher every day, appeared from time to time to see me; but his visits were generally hurried ones, as he was constantly on the road, travelling hither and thither, exploring registries here, and certificates there, and fortifying our case by every possible means he could think of. His energy was untiring; and in the shrewd devices of his quick intelligence, even the long-practised acuteness of the lawyers discovered great resources.
Paragraphs of a half mysterious kind in the public newspapers announced to the world that a most remarkable case might ere long transpire, and a claim be preferred which should threaten the possession of one of the largest estates in a county adjacent to the metropolis. To these succeeded others, more openly expressed, in which it was announced that some of the most distinguished members of the inner bar had received retainers for a cause that would soon astonish the world, wherein the plaintiff was represented to be the son and heir of one who once had figured most conspicuously in the fashionable and political circles of Dublin.
As the time approached for bringing the case to trial it was judged expedient that I should be provided with lodgings in a more fashionable quarter of the town, be seen abroad in places of public resort, and, in fact, a certain éclat be imparted to my presence, which should enlist, so far as might be, popular feeling in my favor. The chief adviser and leader of my case was a lawyer of great repute in the Irish bar of those days,—a certain Samuel Hanchett,—one of those men who owe their success in life less to actual learning than to the possession of immense natural acuteness, great resources in difficulty, and a vast acquaintance with all the arts of their fellow-men. There had been, I believe, considerable difficulty in securing his services originally in our behalf. It was reported that he disliked such cases; that they were not what “suited him.” He made various objections when first addressed, and threw every discouragement when the cause was submitted for his opinion. He asked for evidence that was not to be obtained, and proofs that were not forthcoming. The merest accident—if I am justified in calling such what was to be followed by consequences so important to myself—overruled these objections on his part. It chanced that in one of my solitary walks on a Sunday afternoon I happened to find myself at the bank of a little stream near Milltown, with an elderly man who seemed to have some apprehensions about crossing on the slippery and uncertain stepping-stones by which the passage was forded. Perceiving his difficulty, I tendered my assistance to him at once, which he accepted. On arriving at then opposite bank, and finding that our roads led in the same direction, we began to converse together, during which my accidental pronunciation of a word with a slightly foreign accent attracted his notice. To a question on his part, I mentioned that a great part of my life had been passed abroad; and amongst the places to which I alluded was Reichenau. He asked me in what year I had been there, and inquired if by any chance I had ever heard of a certain school there in which it was said the son of the late Duke of Orleans had been a teacher.
“You are speaking of Monsieur Jost, my old master?” said I, warmed up by even this passing remembrance of happier days.
“Will you pardon the liberty I am about to take,” said he, with some earnestness, “and allow me to ask, with whom I have the honor to speak?”
“My name is Jasper Carew, sir,” said I, with a degree of stern pride a man feels in asserting a claim that he knows may be contested.
“Jasper Carew!” repeated he, slowly, while he stood still and stared steadfastly at me—“Jasper Carew! You are then the claimant to the estates of Castle Carew and Crone Lofty in Wicklow?”
“The property of my late father,” said I, assentingly.
“What a singular coincidence should have brought us together,” said he, after a pause. “Do you know, sir, that when you overtook me half an hour ago, and saw me standing on the side of the stream there, I was less occupied in thinking how I should cross it than how I could reconcile certain strange statements which had been made to me respecting your claim. I am Mr. Hanchett, sir, the counsel to whom your case has been submitted.”