And after this ample apology and vindication, Mr. Swanland thrust both hands deep in his pockets, and turned once more to the dripping roofs and twisted chimneys.
"Well, well, it cannot be helped now," said Mr. Asherill, in a conciliatory tone; "another time I will be more explicit; only you know, you must know, how resolutely I have always refused to have anything to do with a transaction upon which it seems a blessing cannot rest."
"Why cannot a blessing rest on this affair," interrupted Mr. Swanland impatiently.
"Because it is not straightforward. What have these men to do with the matter. They are not petitioning creditors; they are not, according to their own showing, pressing creditors. They want the man to go on, and he or his family want to stop. What is the English of it all? Why does not his solicitor appear?"
"I have a letter from him," said Mr. Swanland, lifting a sheet of note paper off the table and handing it to his partner.
Mr. Asherill looked first at the signature. "Michael Benning," he read, and looked at Mr. Swanland in blank consternation.
"Why, he is solicitor to the General Chemical Company."
"No; surely not?"
"Surely yes. I told you there was something underneath all this."
"I do not see that exactly. Why should he not be Mr. Mortomley's solicitor too?"