“I will take all responsibility, your Honour.”
“Very well, Mr. Sargent. You consent, I presume, Mr. Harding? I am not sure that I have the power, but if not, the error can be corrected by appeal. Mark the motion, ‘withdrawn.’”
“This is treachery!” Fenton shouted at his lawyer. “I’ll have you disbarred, Sir! You’ll lose every client you’ve got——”
“But I’ll keep my self-respect,” answered Sargent, in a whisper.
“I’ll have you disbarred, Sir!—I’ll ruin you utterly. Your Honour, he’s conspired with the other side—he used to be in their office. I can prove——”
“Clear the Court Room!” thundered the Justice.
Outside in the Rotunda the audience placed Sargent on trial and straightway condemned him. In legal circles his conduct was denounced, eulogised, and on the whole deplored.
But the Court of Conscience (hear the cynic mutter “Court of last resort!”) held him guiltless, and from its judgment there is no appeal.