THE AMAZING CONDITIONS
The offices of Messrs. Parsons and Glieve, solicitors, are situated off the Strand, and within seven minutes’ walk of Covent Garden. It is an old-established and exceedingly respectable firm. Its respectability is emphasized by the massiveness of its furniture and the age of its office boy. He is fifty, if he is a day. An exceeding slowness of brain prevented him from rising to a more exalted position, a position to which his quite extraordinary conscientiousness and honesty would have entitled him. That same conscientiousness and honesty prevented him from being superseded by a more juvenile individual, when his age had passed the limit usually accorded to office boys. Imperceptibly almost, he became part and parcel of the firm, a thing no more to be dispensed with than the brass plate outside the office. He appeared now as an elderly and exceedingly reputable butler, and his appearance quite enormously increased the respectability of the firm.
Nominally James Glieve and Henry Parsons were partners of equal standing, neither claiming seniority to the other; virtually James Glieve was the voice, Henry Parsons the echo. In matters of great importance, they received clients in company, Henry Parsons playing the part of Greek chorus to James Glieve’s lead. In matters of less importance, they each had their own particular clients; but it is very certain that, even thus, Henry Parsons invariably echoed the voice. It merely meant that the voice had sounded in private, while the echo was heard in public.
When George, the office-boy-butler, presented James Glieve with a small piece of pasteboard, on the morning following Antony’s arrival in town, with the statement that the gentleman was in the waiting-room, James Glieve requested the instant presence of Henry Parsons, prior to the introduction of Antony. From which token it will be justly observed that the matter in hand was of importance. In James Glieve’s eyes it was of extreme importance, and that by reason of its being extremely unusual.
Some six weeks previously an unknown client had made his appearance in the person of a big clean-shaven man, by name Doctor Hilary St. John. Henry Parsons happened, this time quite by accident, to be present at the interview. The big man had made certain statements in an exceedingly business-like manner, and had then requested Messrs. Parsons and Glieve to act on his behalf, or, rather, on behalf of the person for whom he was emissary.
“But, bless my soul,” James Glieve had boomed amazed, on the conclusion of the request, “I never heard such a thing in my life. It—I am not at all sure that it is legal.”
“Not at all sure that it is legal,” Henry Parsons had echoed.
The big man had laughed, recapitulated his statements, and urged his point.
“I don’t see how it can be done,” James Glieve had responded obstinately.
“It can’t be done,” the echo had repeated with even greater assurance than the voice.