“That is well said,” replied Northcote, feeling the rebuke to be merited.
“And so you see,” said the solicitor, “in regard to this wretched woman whom we had undertaken to defend, we were in the position of being able to brief a first-rate man for a third-rate fee.”
“Yet a third-rate man would have served your purpose equally well, if one is allowed to hazard the remark.”
“No; for this reason: the woman has long been of intemperate habits. Prior to the commission of the crime she was known to be drinking heavily, and Tobin, who is a real fighting man, if ever there was one, had decided to take the line of insanity.”
“As the only possible means of saving her neck?”
“There is no other. And even in the hands of such a man as Tobin, the chance is remote. He has his witnesses to call, of course, in support of his plea, but they cannot be considered as entirely satisfactory. And, unfortunately, their evidence will be rebutted by that of the prison doctors, who are against us.”
“Then, after all,” said the young man, with a sunken eagerness appearing in his eyes, “there will be opportunities for advocacy.”
“Pretty considerable opportunities, if we are to save her neck.”
“Then forgive me if again I put the question, Why did you come to a tyro with a case of this nature?”
“How can you ask,” said the solicitor, with an arch smile, “when the tyro happens to be one Henry Northcote?”