A hurried footstep on the stair indeed announced learned counsel, who burst in, still in wig and gown, and full of apology.
"Extremely sorry, Murbles," said Sir Impey. "We became excessively tedious at the end, I regret to say. I really did my best, but dear old Dowson is getting as deaf as a post, you know, and terribly fumbling in his movements.—And how are you, Wimsey? You look as if you'd been in the wars. Can we bring an action for assault against anybody?"
"Much better than that," put in Mr. Murbles; "attempted murder, if you please."
"Excellent, excellent," said Sir Impey.
"Ah, but we've decided not to prosecute," said Mr. Murbles, shaking his head.
"Really! Oh, my dear Wimsey, this will never do. Lawyers have to live, you know. Your sister? I hadn't the pleasure of meeting you at Riddlesdale, Lady Mary. I trust you are fully recovered."
"Entirely, thank you," said Mary with emphasis.
"Mr. Parker—of course your name is very familiar. Wimsey, here, can't do a thing without you, I know. Murbles, are these gentlemen full of valuable information? I am immensely interested in this case."
"Not just this moment, though," put in the solicitor.
"Indeed, no. Nothing but that excellent saddle of mutton has the slightest attraction for me just now. Forgive my greed."