Afterwards he read for the Bar, was called in due time, and took up his quarters in the Temple. No briefs coming into his hands, he directed his attention to the Press, secured an appointment as critic on the Sunday Review, and was appointed London correspondent of Berrow’s Journal, an old provincial paper of considerable repute. He joined the Hamilton Club, where Press-men most do congregate, and by degrees came to be regarded as one of the craft.
He was in the police court during Paul’s trouble quite by accident, having called in, out of kindness to little Simpkins, who was the accredited reporter of the Daily Mercury, and who was in a delicate state of health.
“I knew the little fellow was ill, and as he’s only just pushing his way on the Press, I have dropped in occasionally and relieved him. His father was an old friend of my father’s, and I feel a good deal of interest in him.”
This was the brief explanation of Mr. Williamson’s presence in court, which he thought it necessary to give Paul, and then he sat down quietly beside the prisoner, and made notes of all that Paul wished him to know.
CHAPTER XVIII.
RETURNS TO THE MEETING AT THE LONDON TAVERN.
The honourable proprietor continued to keep back his secret for some time, in face of all opposition; several directors drew various devices on the blotting pads before them; the reporters for the London papers smiled, took notes, sharpened their pencils, and nibbed their pens; the Yorkshire cleric insisted upon knowing the position of the bank, and the stalwart layman from the same county loudly proclaimed his opinion that it was just simply “dommed nonsense to go on like this.”
The financial orator was a gentleman of experience; he had fought shareholders and directors before now, and he was not going to give way to these Eastern Bank fellows: he said this in a quiet whisper to a friendly M.P. who was standing by his side. Then turning towards the directorial seats, he said that a certain empty chair at the board that day did not at all surprise him.
“Name! name!” cried a few shareholders again; and then suddenly, for the first time, the chairman looked round the room nervously, as if he sought an absent face; and the shareholders gradually became quiet.
“The gentleman who is most conspicuous by his absence on this occasion is the absentee to whom I refer,” said the financial orator.
Still the shareholders were at fault; some shook their heads, others looked as if they knew all about it; and the poor parson, in a moment of exhausted patience, again insisted upon knowing the position of the bank.