“An uncommonly sweet creature too,” said Mr. Furnival.
“I dare say,” said Mr. Chaffanbrass; and then there was a pause.
“And what can I do for you?” said Mr. Chaffanbrass.
“In the first place I should be very glad to have your advice; and then—. Of course I must lead in defending her—unless it were well that I should put the case altogether in your hands.”
“Oh no! don’t think of that. I couldn’t give the time to it. My heart is not in it, as yours is. Where will it be?”
“At Alston, I suppose.”
“At the Spring assizes. That will be—. Let me see; about the 10th of March.”
“I should think we might get it postponed till the summer. Round is not at all hot about it.”
“Should we gain anything by that? If a prisoner be innocent why torment him by delay. He is tolerably sure of escape. If he be guilty, extension of time only brings out the facts the clearer. As far as my experience goes, the sooner a man is tried the better—always.”
“And you would consent to hold a brief?”
“Under you? Well; yes. I don’t mind it at Alston. Anything to oblige an old friend. I never was proud, you know.”
“And what do you think about it, Chaffanbrass?”
“Ah! that’s the question.”
“She must be pulled through. Twenty years of possession! Think of that.”
“That’s what Mason, the man down in Yorkshire, is thinking of. There’s no doubt of course about that partnership deed?”
“I fear not. Round would not go on with it if that were not all true.”
“It depends on those two witnesses, Furnival. I remember the case of old, though it was twenty years ago, and I had nothing to do with it. I remember thinking that Lady Mason was a very clever woman, and that Round and Crook were rather slow.”
“He’s a brute; is that fellow, Mason of Groby Park.”
“A brute; is he? We’ll get him into the box and make him say as much for himself. She’s uncommonly pretty, isn’t she?”
“She is a pretty woman.”
“And interesting? It will all tell, you know. A widow with one son, isn’t she?”
“Yes, and she has done her duty admirably since her husband’s death. You will find too that she has the sympathies of all the best people in her neighbourhood. She is staying now at the house of Sir Peregrine Orme, who would do anything for her.”
“Anything, would he?”
“And the Staveleys know her. The judge is convinced of her innocence.”
“Is he? He’ll probably have the Home Circuit in the summer. His conviction expressed from the bench would be more useful to her. You can make Staveley believe everything in a drawing-room or over a glass of wine; but I’ll be hanged if I can ever get him to believe anything when he’s on the bench.”
“But, Chaffanbrass, the countenance of such people will be of great use to her down there. Everybody will know that she’s been staying with Sir Peregrine.”
“I’ve no doubt she’s a clever woman.”
“But this new trouble has half killed her.”
“I don’t wonder at that either. These sort of troubles do vex people. A pretty woman like that should have everything smooth; shouldn’t she? Well, we’ll do the best we can. You’ll see that I’m properly instructed. By the by, who is her attorney? In such a case as that you couldn’t have a better man than old Solomon Aram. But Solomon Aram is too far east from you, I suppose?”
“Isn’t he a Jew?”
“Upon my word I don’t know. He’s an attorney, and that’s enough for me.”
And then the matter was again discussed between them, and it was agreed that a third counsel would be wanting. “Felix Graham is very much interested in the case,” said Mr. Furnival, “and is as firmly convinced of her innocence as—as I am.” And he managed to look his ally in the face and to keep his countenance firmly.
“Ah,” said Mr. Chaffanbrass. “But what if he should happen to change his opinion about his own client?”
“We could prevent that, I think.”
“I’m not so sure. And then he’d throw her over as sure as your name’s Furnival.”
“I hardly think he’d do that.”
“I believe he’d do anything.” And Mr. Chaffanbrass was quite moved to enthusiasm. “I’ve heard that man talk more nonsense about the profession in one hour, than I ever heard before since I first put a cotton gown on my back. He does not understand the nature of the duty which a professional man owes to his client.”
“But he’d work well if he had a case at heart himself. I don’t like him, but he is clever.”
“You can do as you like, of course. I shall be out of my ground down at Alston, and of course I don’t care who takes the fag of the work. But I tell you this fairly;—if he does go into the case and then turns against us or drops it—I shall turn against him and drop into him.”
“Heaven help him in such a case as that!” And then these two great luminaries of the law shook hands and parted.
One thing was quite clear to Mr. Furnival as he had himself carried in a cab from Ely Place to his own chambers in Lincoln’s Inn. Mr. Chaffanbrass was fully convinced of Lady Mason’s guilt. He had not actually said so, but he had not even troubled himself to go through the little ceremony of expressing a belief in her innocence. Mr. Furnival was well aware that Mr. Chaffanbrass would not on this account be less likely to come out strongly with such assurances before a jury, or to be less severe in his cross-examination of a witness whose evidence went to prove that guilt; but nevertheless the conviction was disheartening. Mr. Chaffanbrass would know, almost by instinct, whether an accused person was or was not guilty; and he had already
