Sir George Vernon was so engrossed in poring over a document which lay stretched out on the table before him that he did not notice the approach of his friend, and it was not until the latter inquired whether the meal was already ordered that the baron looked up and saw him.
"Oh, it's you," he exclaimed; "yes, we shall fall to directly; but I want you just to look at this first."
"What is it," inquired Stanley, "the summons again?"
"The summons, of course," replied Sir George, as he thrust it into the other's hands.
"What did the attorney say?"
"He said it was a bad case; a very bad case. He said, in fact, that he never came across a more unpromising case for a client of his since he set himself up as a lawyer."
"Humph!" returned Sir Thomas, "they always do say so. I tell you it will come out all right in the end."
"Happen so; but he says the ordeal would go for nothing, they don't count now in courts of law here. They would do if the trial came off at Derby, I know."
"Aye," assented his friend, "I'll warrant it would count there, for no one would dare to resist thee; but you see, Sir George, it's at London, and that makes all the difference."
"Warder, read the summons through," pursued the baron. "I could not understand it, of course, I'm not much of a lawyer; but he says 'tis the work of that villainous locksmith. I wish I had hanged him at the same time, and then—"