"Yes," John had heard of them too—strange if he hadn't.
"Well, Hercules is come to life again, and has got a new broom, and our Augean stables are being swept out. But I am talking Greek to you, I suppose."
"Worse than Greek. I don't understand you a bit, Mr. Roundhand."
"Ah! You'll see. By the way, do you happen to know who is Lord Chancellor now?"
John did not know even that.
"I don't suppose you do. He is the new broom I was telling you of, and he is sweeping out the Augean stables—our Augean stables—with a vengeance. There will be nothing left for us lawyers to fatten on soon, they say. But it is an ill wind that blows no one any good; and you will be all the better for it—you'll see. You won't go with me to Westminster, I suppose?"
"I do not understand you, Mr. Roundhand," John reiterated; "only that you seem in high spirits," he added.
"And you are not so infected. Well, I'll go. You shall hear from me again soon."
"I am always pleased to see you, you know, Mr. Roundhand," said John.
"Ah! You'll have reason to say so this day week, perhaps. We shall see."