“May I keep that?”
“Why, of course.”
Sir Charles kissed his wife's line, and put the note in his breast.
“The first step,” said Rolfe, “is to cut you in two. That is soon done. You must copy in your own hand, and then sign, this writing.” And he handed him a paper.
“I, Charles Dyke Bassett, being of sound mind, instruct James Sharpe, of Gray's Inn, my Solicitor, to sue the person who signed the order for my incarceration—in the Court of Common Pleas; and to take such other steps for my relief as may be advised by my counsel—Mr. Francis Rolfe.”
“Excuse me,” said Sir Charles, “if I make one objection. Mr. Oldfield has been my solicitor for many years. I fear it will hurt his feelings if I intrust the matter to a stranger. Would there be any objection to my inserting Mr. Oldfield's name, sir?”
“Only this: he would think he knew better than I do; and then I, who know better than he does, and am very vain and arrogant, should throw up the case in a passion, and go back to my MS.; and humdrum Oldfield would go to Equity instead of law; and all the costs would fall on your estate instead of on your enemy; and you would be here eighteen months instead of eight or ten days. No, Sir Charles, you can't mix champagne and ditch-water; you can't make Invention row in a boat with Antique Twaddle, and you mustn't ask me to fight your battle with a blunt knife, when I have got a sharp knife that fits my hand.”
Mr. Rolfe said this with more irritation than was justified, and revealed one of the great defects in his character.
Sir Charles saw his foible, smiled, and said, “I withdraw a proposal which I see annoys you.” He then signed the paper.
Mr. Rolfe broke out all smiles directly, and said, “Now you are cut in two. One you is here; but Sharpe is another you. Thus, one you works out of the asylum, and one in, and that makes all the difference. Compare notes with those who have tried the other way. Yet, simple and obvious as this is, would you believe it, I alone have discovered this method; I alone practice it.”