“Decline!” exclaimed the solicitor, flushing. “Do you know, Mr Ross, that this may mean an enormous number of briefs from our firm, sir—a very fortune?”
Luke bowed.
“You are a young man, Mr Ross—excuse me for saying so, sir—just making a name in your profession. Do I understand you aright, sir? Our firm, sir, stands high.”
“Perfectly aright, Mr Swift,” replied Luke, in a voice that quite seemed to silence the solicitor, who refreshed himself with a hastily-taken pinch of snuff, and shut the lid of his box with a loud snap. “I know your firm well, sir; but, as you are aware,” he added, with a grave smile, “there are limits to even an enterprising barrister’s powers, and the profession has been kind enough to give me more than I care to undertake.”
“Ah, exactly, sir—of course—yes,” said Mr Swift, smiling, and nodding his head. “Exactly so, my dear sir. Will you allow me?”
Luke bowed, and before he had quite realised his visitor’s intentions, he had caught up a quill pen, and, rapidly dipping it, altered the fifteen on the back of the brief with a couple of touches into twenty-five, blotted it, and handed it to the young barrister, who raised his hand not to take the brief, but to decline.
“I am sorry, Mr Swift,” he said, “but I have sent back a couple of briefs this morning marked precisely as you have endorsed that. I am obliged to decline. Try Mr Norris, or Mr Henrich, on this staircase. I am sure they will be glad to accept the brief.”
The solicitor stared in astonishment, took out his snuff-box, put it back again, and then exclaimed sharply—
“But I want you, sir, you.”
“Then,” said Luke, smiling, “I am afraid you will have to double the fee upon the brief, Mr Swift. So much work has come to me of late, that I have been compelled to make that my fee.”