“Right! About what?”
“Oh, you know well enough—you was at the court to-day, and you heard that gallows-bird tell how it happened that he stole the money and spoons, and left Bob Merry to go to jail for ’t.”
“Well; what is all this to me?”
“Why, ain’t you a lawyer?”
“Yes.”
“Well, ain’t it the business of a lawyer to see that justice is done?”
“Not at all; a lawyer has nothing to do with justice.”
“Indeed! What is his business then?”
“To serve his client. I am the city lawyer, and the city is my client; it is my duty to try persons charged with offences, and get them committed, if I can. What have I to do with justice?”
“Why,” said Bill, scratching his head—“all this kind o’ bothers me, for I’m just from the country, where we have a notion that there’s such a thing as justice and law, and that it is designed to protect the innocent and punish the guilty: but it seems that I’m rather green here at York! Howsomdever, I should like to ax one question.”