“Francis,” his friend began, “they say at the club that you refused to be briefed in the Chippenham affair.”
“Quite true,” was the calm reply. “I told Griggs that I wouldn't have anything to do with it.”
Wilmore knew then that all was well. Francis' old air of strength and decision had returned. His voice was firm, his eyes were clear and bright. His manner seemed even to invite questioning.
“I think I know why,” Wilmore said, “but I should like you to tell me in your own words.”
Francis glanced around as though to be sure that they were not overheard.
“Because,” he replied, dropping his voice a little but still speaking with great distinctness, “William Bull is a cunning and dangerous criminal whom I should prefer to see hanged.”
“You know that?”
“I know that.”
“It would be a great achievement to get him off,” Wilmore persisted. “The evidence is very weak in places.”
“I believe that I could get him off,” was the confident reply. “That is why I will not touch the brief. I think,” Francis continued, “that I have already conveyed it to you indirectly, but here you are in plain words, Andrew. I have made up my mind that I will defend no man in future unless I am convinced of his innocence.”