"Are you the lady's nearest male relation?"
"No, I am not. Her only male relation is very ill in Scotland."
"Are you any relation of hers?"
"No; I am her friend."
"My dear sir," said the magistrate, "why take up my time in this way? You have no right to interfere—there is no precedent for such a thing, no precedent at all," and he got up and stood leaning his knuckles on the table and looking at Paul Lyons as though his ignorance of the law was almost worthy of compassion.
"Will you advise me, sir? What am I to do? Can you not tell me how I must set to work? Surely your experience can help me."
"No, sir; I really cannot take the responsibility of doing this—the lady's nearest relations must take the matter up. You had better not interfere."
"And if the lady has no relations?"
"That, sir, is a position—hem—the law never contemplated such a position. I really must beg you to withdraw now, you are taking up the time of the (he was going to say court but he corrected himself)—you are taking up my time, sir."
With hidden rage, poor Paul left him, and found himself in the street. What was the right thing to do? How could he help her?