“Why, simply, because the poor fellows were distilling for myself,” he replied; “all the apparatus were mine, and I can't think of allowing them to be transported for my own act.”
“Very well, then a bargain be it,” said Val, “so out they go.”
Whilst every man was thus working, either for his friends or against his enemies, or not unfrequently both, Hartley, who, in point of fact, felt always anxious to do as much good as he could, addressed Sir William:
“Have you no friends in difficulty, Sir William, or who require your advocacy now? I see the jobbers are hard at work. Some working heaven and earth to wreak the vengeance of law upon their enemies; others quite as anxious to turn aside justice from their friends.”
“Eh! what's that!” said Sir William, starting up; “come, Hartley, you are right; there are four of my tenants in for a fray—the M'Caffreys, and the poor devils stand no chance with such a jury as they will have. I hear them named below there—so let us join the jobbers as you say, and see if we cannot get the Bills thrown out.”
“Very well,” said Val, as they approached him, “the M'Caffreys go to trial.”
“Sir William, excuse me,” said Hartley; “will you allow me to interfere, in the first instance?”
“My dear fellow, certainly, with great pleasure, and I shall aid you as far as I can.”
“Val,” said Hartley, in that kind of familiar tone which he knew would go far with such a man as M'Clutchy, and which was in such accordance with his own natural good-humor—“Val, my good fellow, and the best man of business here, by the way, notwithstanding the poteen affair, I want you to stand my friend and also Sir William's here.”
“How is that, Hartley?”