Wilkinson flushed.
"Do you mean to compare me with——" he began; but Flomerfelt left the question unanswered.
"This is no Sunday-school picnic, and you may as well understand it now, Peter," said Morehead. "We've got to work for our living in this case, and you've got to do your share, have got to understand that it's a running fight from now on to the end."
"I'll do my part," Wilkinson assured them, burying his hands in his pockets. "But I want you to find out who the judge is going to be, and when the time comes, give me the names of the jury, and I'll get at them all right."
Colonel Morehead rose to his lanky height and clutched the shoulder of his opulent client.
"Wilkinson," he cried, shaking a lean hand in the other's face, "you don't know what you're talking about! And you might as well make up your mind now that you can't touch Murgatroyd, and you can't touch the Court. And Murgatroyd is there to see that you don't touch the jury. We—Durand and I—have got charge of this thing. You keep your hands off...."
"But you're going to pull me out, aren't you?"
" ... In our own way. So far I've always had my own way in my cases," declared Patrick Durand, "and if I can't have it in this one, why, I'll retire, that's all."
"Yes, you must do as they say, Peter V." advised Flomerfelt, suavely, and then lowering his voice so that the others should not hear, he added: "If in the course of human events it should become necessary to lay a bribe in order to get you clear, I'll attend to that myself."