Volume Two—Chapter Ten.
Markworth versus Hartshorne.
Markworth was as good as his word.
As soon as he saw that there was no chance of prevailing on the old dowager to pay over Susan’s inheritance without calling in the aid of the law, he quickly set the slowly-moving wheels of that ponderous and unwieldly machinery in motion.
The very day Mr Trump and himself both got back to London, Mrs Hartshorne was served, through her solicitors, with a notice to refund the sum of twenty thousand pounds cash, trust money held by her on behalf of her daughter, Susan Markworth née Hartshorne, and bequeathed by the late Roger Hartshorne, deceased, now claimed by Allynne Markworth on behalf of his wife Susan, as beforesaid.
This legal notice was sent to Messrs Trump, Sequence, and Co., by a firm of Jewish notoriety, Solomonson and Isaacs, unknown to Mr Trump, save through the columns of the “Law List”—although their names were frequently seen in the newspapers, under the head of “Police Intelligence,” as the defenders of low class criminals and receivers of stolen goods.
“Mishter Sholomonshon” had not only been willing to act as Markworth’s banker, “for a shtrong conshiderashun, ma dere shir,” pending the suit, but also agreed to act as his legal adviser in the matter, and instruct counsel for carrying on the case. As Markworth looked upon all attorneys as alike, they all being, in his estimation, “limbs of the devil,” without any distinction between them, he consented willingly to the arrangement, particularly as he knew Solomonson was as sharp as a needle, and he was not at all averse to his being a Jew; besides, he already knew all about the matter, and Markworth was not personally acquainted with any other lawyers.
“Sharp work!” said Mr Trump, rubbing his hands gleefully in anticipation of a lengthy suit and a long bill of costs when this notice was served. “Sharp work; but I don’t like to have to act with that rascally Jew firm; I wish the rogue had respectable solicitors. It can’t be helped though now—”
“Quite so,” murmured Mr Sequence, affirmatively, looking at his partner straight in the face, with his dull eyes and expressionless features.
“But we’ll stop their little game,” continued Mr Trump, as if speaking to himself, without taking any notice of Sequence at the moment. He presently turned to him, however, and the two, after some little deliberation, settled upon what course they should pursue.