Samuel was knowing enough to see that it would greatly please the outraged lady if he took a special note of this disclosure, which he accordingly did, and then rising, once more assured his client of his determination to put her right, and bade her a very good morning.
“Well, if that ain’t a go,” said he to himself, as he returned to his desk. “I never did have much faith in the chap, but I didn’t fancy he was that sort. Cruden Reginald, eh? Nice boy you are. Never mind! I’m dead on you this time. Nuisance it is that ma’s gone and mixed herself up with that lot. Can’t be helped, though; business is business; and such a bit of practice too. Cruden Reginald! But you don’t get round Sam Shuckleford when he’s once round your way, my beauty.”
To the legal mind of Sam this transposition of Reginald’s name was in itself as good as a verdict and sentence against him. Any one else but himself might have been taken in by it, but you needed to get up very early in the morning to take in a cute one like S.S.!
He said nothing about the affair to his principal when he returned, preferring to “nurse” it as a little bit of business of his own, which he would manage by himself for once in a way.
And that very evening fortune threw into his way a most unexpected and invaluable auxiliary.
He was down at his “club,” smoking his usual evening pipe over the Rocket, when a man he had once or twice seen before in the place came up and said,—
“After you with that paper.”
“All serene,” said Sam; “I’ll be done with it in about an hour.”
“You don’t take long,” said the other.
“Considering I’m on the committee,” said Sam, with ruffled dignity, “I’ve a right to keep it just as long as I please. Are you a member here?”