"I like your reasonable powers amazingly," said the butler, somewhat impatiently; "and I will now proceed to unfold the momentary object of my visit."
"Give yourself breathing time, my dear sir. As I was observing, Law is more powerful than even Justice and Religion; and I could now show that it exercises the same predominating influence over Morality also. For instance, Law, and not Conscience, defines virtues and vices. If I murder you, I commit a crime; but the executioner who puts me to death for the action, does not commit a crime. Neither does the soldier who kills his fellow-creature in battle. Thus, murder is only a crime when it is not legalised by human statutes,—or, in plain terms, when it is not according to law."
"I comprehend, sir," said Whittingham; and, seeing that Mr. Mac Chizzle now paused at length, he narrated the particulars of his master's arrest upon an accusation of passing a forged note for five hundred pounds.
"This is an ugly case, Mr. Whittingham."
"You must go down to him at Bow-Street: his case comes on at eleven o'clock."
"Well, there is plenty of time: it is only half-past nine o'clock. I think we had better instruct counsel."
"Construct counsel!" ejaculated Whittingham; "I want you to get him liberated at once."
"Ah! I dare say you do," said the lawyer, coolly. "That is often more easily said than done. From what you have told me I should not wonder if your master was committed for trial."
"But he is innocent, sir—he is innocent—as the young lamb in the meadows which is unborn!" cried Whittingham. "Master Richard would no more pass a fictious note than I should endeavour to pass a race-horse if I was mounted on a donkey."
Mr. Mac Chizzle smiled, and summoned his clerk by the euphonious name of "Simcox." Mr. Simcox was somewhat slow in making his appearance; and when he did, a very comical one it was—for his hair was red, his eyes were green, his countenance was studded with freckles, and his eye-lashes were white.