It would seem as if this case brought me luck. The very next day a defendant in a rather bad assault case came in to engage my services. I appeared for him at the Petty Sessions and made what, I flattered myself, was a very good defence. Anyhow, he was acquitted, and I had the satisfaction of reading in the local paper, the “Midland Gazette,” “that the ingenious defence and the brilliant speech made by Mr. Malone on behalf of the accused proves that he is a valuable acquisition to our local Bar.”
After this, business began to come in pretty rapidly, but, to my regret, my clerk, who was very anxious to settle in Dublin, got the chance of a situation in the then well-known firm of solicitors in Dame Street, Messrs. Wrexham & Co. I gave him, as he deserved, an excellent character, which procured the place for him.
He had left me about a month, and something like two months had elapsed since Mr. Jephson’s visit, when I read in the obituary column of the “Irish Times” the announcement of the death of Miss Glasson, of Longfield House, Co. ——. I had, of course, often thought of the little old woman of the sweet face and the undying love for Ralph of the blue eyes, and I began to wonder if she had made any will and, if so, who was the legatee. But, after all, the matter was one in which I had no concern, yet I felt gratified somehow, that she did not execute the will which, acting on Mr. Jephson’s instructions, I had prepared for her. I addressed myself to my increasing business and the matter soon passed from my mind.
Some weeks after this announcement in the “Times,” my clerk one day brought a card into my private office, saying:—
“The gentleman desires to see you, sir.”
I looked at the card. “Mr. Wrexham.” It was the name of the solicitor to whom my first clerk had gone.
“Show him in,” I said.
Mr. Wrexham, after a courteous salute, took the proffered chair and plunged into business at once.
“You are doubtless aware,” he said, “that Miss Glasson died at Longfield House a short time ago?”
I nodded assent.