"Bakewell's for the prosecution, I suppose," said one young barrister to another.
"Yes; and it couldn't be in better hands. I wish Stepaside were not such a fool!"
"Why, would you like the job?"
"Like it! I should think I would! It's one of the finest opportunities since I've been called."
"But he's no defence, man!"
"Oh, a defence could easily be made. It would give a fellow a splendid chance. You see the case is the talk of the country, and the question of motive has to figure largely. Why, the evidence could be riddled! To say the least of it, one might get a verdict for manslaughter."
"You mean to say he won't give you the chance you want." And the other laughed.
"Anyhow, it seems jolly mean of him not to allow one to make the most of such an opportunity. You know Binkley, don't you? He's now making thousands a year. For years he used to hang around the courts, unable to get a brief, and then a case something like this turned up, and he acted for the prisoner."
"But he didn't get him off."
"No; but, don't you see, it gave him his chance. His cross-examination was clever, and his speech for the defence was so brilliant that it gave him a reputation. It made him! After that, briefs came in like mad. But I see time is up."