“That's enough; I'll not forget it” So saying, he released his grasp of the little man, and pursued his vigorous course. In a few moments after, Bicknell was seen accompanied by Forester alone; “the Knight” having determined not to present himself till towards the close of the proceedings, if even then.
The buzz and din incident to a tumultuous assembly had just subsided to the decorous quietude of a Court of Justice, by the judges entering and taking their seats, when, after a few words interchanged between the Attorney-General and the sheriff, the latter courteously addressed Lord Wallincourt, and made way for him to ascend the steps leading to the bench. The incident was in itself too slight and unimportant for mention, save that it speedily attracted the attention of O'Halloran, whose quick glance at once recognized his ancient enemy. So sudden was the shock, and so poignant did it seem, that he actually desisted from the occupation he was engaged in of turning over his brief, and sat down pale and trembling with passion.
“You are not ill?” asked O'Reilly, eagerly, for he had not remarked the incident.
“Not ill,” rejoined O'Halloran, in a low, deep whisper; “but do you see who is sitting next Judge Wallace, on the left of the bench?”
“Forester, I really believe,” exclaimed O'Reilly; for so separated were the two “United” countries at that period that his accession to rank and title was a circumstance of which neither O'Reilly nor his lawyer had ever heard.
“We 'll change the venue for him, too, before the day is over,” said O'Halloran, with a savage leer. “Do not let him see that we notice him.”
While these brief words were interchanged, the business of the court was opened, and, some routine matters over, the record of Darcy versus Hickman called on. After this, the names of the special jury list were recited, and the invariable scene of dispute and wrangling incident to their choice followed. In law, as in war, the combat opens by a skirmish; a single cannon-shot, or a leading question, if thrown out, is meant rather to ascertain “the range” than with any positive intention of damage; but gradually the light troops fall back, forces concentrate, and a mighty movement is made. In the present instance the preliminaries were unusually long, the plaintiff's counsel not only stating all the grounds of the present suit, but recapitulating, with painful accuracy, the reasons for the change of venue, and reviewing and of course rebutting by anticipation every possible or impossible objection that might be made by his learned friend on “the other side.” For our purpose, it is enough if we condense the matter into a single statement, that the action was to show that Hickman, in purchasing portions of the Darcy estate, was and must have been aware that the Knight of Gwynne's signature appended to the deed of sale was a forgery, and that he never had concurred in, nor was even cognizant of, this disposal of his property. A single case was selected to establish this fact, on which, if proved, further proceedings in Equity would be founded.
The plaintiff's case opened by an examination of a number of witnesses, old tenants of the Darcy property. These were not only called to prove the value of their holdings, as being very far above the price alleged to have been paid by Hickman, but also that they themselves were in total ignorance that the estate had been conveyed away to another proprietor, and never knew till the flight and death of Gleeson took place, that for many years previous they had ceased to be tenants of Maurice Darcy, to become those of Dr. Hickman.
The examination and cross-examination of these witnesses presented all the varying and changeful fortunes ever observable in such scenes. At one moment some obdurate old farmer resisting, with ludicrous pertinacity, all the efforts of the examining counsel to elicit the very testimony he himself wished to give; at another, the native humor of the peasant was seen baffling and foiling all the trained skill and practised dexterity of the pleader. Many a merry burst of laughter, many a jest that set the court in a roar, were exchanged. It was in Ireland, remember; but still the business of the day advanced, and a great weight of evidence was adduced, which, however suggestive to common intelligence, went legally only so far as to show that the tenantry were, almost to a man, of an opinion which, whether well founded or not in reason, turned out to be incorrect.
Darcy's counsel, a man of quickness and intelligence, made a very able speech, summing up the evidence, and commenting on every leading portion of it. He dwelt powerfully on the fact that at the time of this alleged sale the Knight, so far from being a distressed and embarrassed man, and consequently likely to effect a sale at a great loss, was, in reality, in possession of a princely fortune, his debts few and insignificant, and his income far above any possible expenditure. If he studiously avoided adverting to Gleeson's perfidy, as solely in fault, he assumed to himself credit for the forbearance, alleging that less scrupulous advisers might have gone perhaps further, and inferred connivance in a case so dubious and dark. “My client, however,” said he, “gave me but one instruction in this cause, and it was this: 'If the law of the land, justly administered, as I believe it will be, restores to me my own, I shall be grateful; but if the pursuit of what I feel my right involve the risk of reflecting on one honest man's fame, or imputing falsely aught of dishonor to an unblemished reputation, I tell you frankly, I don't think a verdict so obtained can carry with it anything but shame and disgrace.”