He shook hands with a look of the most profound veneration for the eminent young legal light, whose brilliancy was beginning to be discussed a good deal, both in and out of court.
“Good morning, Mr Swift,” said Lake. “I’ll try and get you a verdict.”
“You will, sir; I’m sure you will,” said the solicitor, bowing as he reached the door, and then hurrying back. “One moment, Mr Ross—a word from an old limb of the law, sir. You are a young man, and not above listening to advice.”
“Certainly not,” said Luke, smiling, “if it be good.”
“’Tis good, sir. Take it. Do away with that boy, and have a quiet, elderly clerk, sir. Gives dignity to your office. Good morning.”
He nodded this time, and shut the door after him, carefully opened the baize portal, and passed through that, to change his whole aspect as he found a very tall, thin, cadaverous-looking man, in glossy black, and with a heavy gold eyeglass swinging outside his buttoned-up surtout.
The countenance of the tall, thin man changed a little, too; but they shook hands warmly.
“Won’t do, Hampton, if you’ve come about the Esdaile case,” he said.
“Never you mind what I’ve come about,” said the tall man, with asperity.
“Oh, I don’t, my dear sir, for we’ve got Ross for the prosecution.”