I bit my lip. 'Well, if you succeed in evading him,' I said, 'you will have cleared your character. And if you don't—then, Harold, our time will have come: you will have your longed-for chance of trying me.'
'That won't do me much good,' he answered, 'if I have to wait fourteen years for you—at Portland.'
THE CROSS-EYED Q.C. BEGGED HIM TO BE VERY CAREFUL.
Next morning, in court, I heard Harold's cross-examination. He described exactly where he had found the contested will in his uncle's escritoire. The cross-eyed Q.C, a heavy man with bloated features and a bulbous nose, begged him, with one fat uplifted forefinger, to be very careful. How did he know where to look for it?
'Because I knew the house well: I knew where my uncle was likely to keep his valuables.'
'Oh, indeed; not because you had put it there?'
The court rang with laughter. My face grew crimson.
After an hour or two of fencing, Harold was dismissed. He stood down, baffled. Counsel recalled Lord Southminster.