"Most unfair," repeated the other counsellor-at-law. "You've got my client here—my client!"
Murgatroyd looked at Mixley and then at McGrath.
"Your client! Where is your client?"
"There he is," pointing, "James Lawrence Challoner!"
Murgatroyd rose and said suavely:—
"I beg your pardon, Mr. Thorne. Are you retained? I didn't know. Challoner said nothing of it. Why didn't you tell me, Mr. Challoner?"
"I didn't know it," Challoner told him shortly. "But it's all right—I suppose Mrs. Challoner retained him."
"Yes, she did," Thorne informed him.
"Well, I'm sorry, Thorne," said Murgatroyd. "If I had known you were in the case——"
"Sorry!" echoed Thorne. "This is outrageous! I went up to the jail this morning and my client was not there." He waved his arm as if addressing a jury. "And when they told me that you—you had the effrontery to have him brought down here—for the third degree—This is a matter for the Morning Mail."