"Not if you require me here, sir."
"Yes, I shall have those memoranda to give you—and tell me now, I think you know your business. Do you think, as we now stand, success is certain?"
"Well, sir, it certainly is very strong—very; but I need not tell you a case will sometimes take a queer turn, and I never like to tell a client that anything is absolutely certain—a case is sometimes carried out of its legitimate course, you see; the judges may go wrong, or the jury bolt, or a witness may break down, or else a bit of evidence may start up—it's a responsibility we never take on ourselves to say that of any case; and you know there has been a good deal of time—and that sometimes raises a feeling with a jury."
"Ay, a quarter of a century, but it can't be helped. For ten years of that time I could not show, I owed money to everybody. Then, when I was for striking on the criminal charge for murder, or manslaughter, or whatever you agreed it was to be, you all said I must begin with the civil action, and first oust him from Guy Deverell's estate. Well, there you told me I could not move till he was twenty-five, and now you talk of the good deal of time—ma foi!—as if it was I who delayed, and not you, messieurs. But enough, past is past. We have the present, and I'll use it."
"We are to go on, then?"
"Yes, we've had to wait too long. Stop for nothing, drive right on, you see, at the fastest pace counsel can manage. If I saw the Deverell estate where it should be, and a judgment for the mesne rates, and Sir Jekyl Marlowe in the dock for his crime, I don't say I should sing nunc dimittis; but, parbleu, sir, it would be very agreeable—ha! ha! ha!"
CHAPTER VIII.
Tempest.
"Does Mr. Guy Deverell know anything of the measures you contemplate in his behalf?" inquired the attorney.