"You don't know as much as you think you do, Fitz."
"Perhaps I don't; but if I don't understand this case, then nobody does."
Mrs. Wittleworth was disgusted, and Fitz was disgusted; and both were silent, rather because there was no prospect of making any progress in the business than because either was satisfied. Fitz had been to see the attorney recommended by the distinguished orator—a young fellow, whose practice was mostly confined to the police court, and who was so weak and silly as to be an object of ridicule to his professional brethren. This gentleman was willing to look into the case. He went to the registry of probate, and read the will. So far Fitz was justified. The next morning the lawyer called on Mr. Checkynshaw. It was very unprofessional, but it was very prudent. He did not wish to annoy a gentleman in his position if there were no just grounds for a suit.
The banker was much obliged to him for calling. The banker was plausible, and the banker finally gave him a retaining fee of fifty dollars to act for the defence, in case a suit was brought against him. He had discharged Fitz for impudence, and he was merely seeking some way to annoy him. The lawyer was satisfied, and so was the banker.
In the course of the forenoon, Fitz, attended by his mother, called upon the attorney. He had looked into the case; he was satisfied there was no ground for an action, and he declined to undertake the suit. Fitz was confounded by this reply.
"I hope you are satisfied now, Fitz," said Mrs. Wittleworth, when they were in the street.
"I am sure I am not. That man has been tampered with! I'll speak to Choate about that. Does that man mean to tell me that we have no grounds for a suit?" replied Fitz, indignantly. "I shall find another lawyer, who will undertake the case."
"You needn't do anything more about it. I am going to Mr. Checkynshaw's now."
"Are you going to accept his offer?" almost gasped Fitz.
"I am."