"I am; and really, Mr. Wittleworth, you must excuse me now.
"On the other side!" repeated Fitz. "Can it be that the mighty name of Choate is to be linked with injustice and oppression? I will not believe it! I counted something upon your friendship for me, Mr. Choate."
The great orator was evidently trying to read some of the strange characters in the manuscript before him, and, regardless of what Fitz was saying, had relapsed into a fit of abstraction, which effectually placed him out of the reach of Mr. Wittleworth's reproaches. The sheets looked as though a fish-worm had come out of the inkstand, and crawled over the virgin page. It was doubtful whether he was able to read anything he had written, and possibly he was trying to remember what he had intended to commit to the paper.
Fitz, finding that the distinguished gentleman took no further notice of him, put on his hat, and marched in stately grandeur out of the office. The great man had sunk considerably in his estimation, though, as a matter of history, he was never pained by having the fact brought to his knowledge.
Mr. Wittleworth had a great deal of confidence in abstract right and justice. If Mr. Choate pleaded the cause of Mr. Checkynshaw, he would in this instance be beaten. It would be a good lesson to the great lawyer, and Mr. Wittleworth magnanimously hoped that he would profit by it. He was to lose all the glory, honor, and immortality to be gained by being on the right side in the great case of Wittleworth vs. Checkynshaw; but it was not Mr. Wittleworth's fault. He had given him an opportunity to enlist under the banner of truth and justice, and he had refused to do so. It was his own choice, and he must abide the consequences. Mr. Wittleworth rather pitied him, for he always had a very tender regard for the reputation of his friends.
Mr. Wittleworth was compelled to rely upon the skill and knowledge of the legal gentleman whom his father had employed to conduct the suit; but he had faith that justice was on his side, and must prevail in the end. He waited—he could not do anything but wait—until the day assigned for the hearing of the case arrived. Mr. Wittleworth took a seat with his father and mother within the bar, on this, as it seemed to him, most momentous occasion the world had ever seen.
Mr. Checkynshaw appeared by counsel, and asked for a continuation of the case for a reasonable time to enable him to bring his daughter from France. The banker's business lawyer said a few words in making the request, and then Mr. Choate, who had been employed by the banker, as well as retained, added the weight of his personal influence to the application. To the intense disgust of Mr. Wittleworth, it was granted so promptly that he hardly knew what had happened. Another case was called, and the Wittleworths went home.
Though Mr. Checkynshaw had threatened to sue them for the money he had paid, nothing more was said or heard from the action. Fitz assured his father and mother that the banker could not produce his daughter, and that the case would not come to trial. If they were only firm and decided with him, Mr. Checkynshaw would give up the block of stores, and pay over the back rents. He must do so, or his reputation would be blasted forever. He must stand before the world as a knave and a swindler, unless he did full and ample justice to the widow (who had a husband), and the orphan (who had a father and mother); for Mr. Wittleworth, when he waxed eloquent, had a habit of confounding terms.
About a week after the hearing which had been cut short so suddenly, Fitz, deeming it his duty to look after the witnesses in the great case of Wittleworth vs. Checkynshaw, thought it advisable to call one evening at No. 3 Phillimore Court. The door was locked, and the house was dark. He repeated the call every evening for a week, but with no better result. Then he went in the daytime. No one answered his knock, and the door was as unyielding as a rock of granite.
Mr. Wittleworth was bewildered. Mr. Checkynshaw had done this! He had spirited away the chief witness. Fitz went to the barber's shop, and inquired for André. He had left his place ten days before. Fitz met Leo on the street one day, a month later.