"You're not going to bring on the —— case this morning, are you?" whispered Sir William Follett, as soon as he had taken his seat, to his opponent who was arranging his papers.
"I am indeed, and no mistake whatever about it."
"Can't we bring it on to-morrow, or some day next week? It would greatly oblige me—I really have scarcely read my papers, and, besides, want to be elsewhere."
"I'll see what my clients say,"—and then he consulted them, and resumed—"No—my people are peremptory."
"Very well. Then keep your eyes wide open. I must bring you down as soon as possible, for I want to be elsewhere."
"Ah—I must take my chance about that"—then, turning round to an experienced and learned junior, he whispered—"You hear what Follett says?—Are we really all right?"
"Oh, pho! never mind him—we are as right as possible."
A few moments afterwards, up rose ——, and soon got into his case, and very soon, also, to the end of it. The case had not been heard more than half an hour, Sir William Follett at once attentively listening to his opponent, and hastily glancing over his own papers, when he rose very quietly, and said—"If my learned friend will pardon me, I think, my Lord, I can save the court a very long and useless enquiry—for there is clearly a fatal objection in limine to these proceedings."
"Let us hear what it is," said the court.
Sir William had completely checkmated his opponent! A statutory requisition had not been complied with; and in less than ten minutes' time the enemy were all prostrate—their expensive and elaborate proceedings all defeated—and that, too, permanently, unless on acceding to the terms which Sir William Follett dictated to them, and which, it need hardly be observed, were somewhat advantageous to his own client!