“All right,” said Moulder. “And now, John, I’ll just tell you what it is. You’ve no more chance of being allowed to speak freely there than—than—than—no more than if you was in church. What are them fellows paid for if you’re to say whatever you pleases out in your own way?”
“He only wants to say the truth, M.,” said Mrs. Moulder, who probably knew less than her husband of the general usages of courts of law.
“Truth be ⸻,” said Moulder.
“Mr. Moulder!” said Mrs. Smiley. “There’s ladies by, if you’ll please to remember.”
“To hear such nonsense sets one past oneself,” continued he; “as if all those lawyers were brought together there—the cleverest and sharpest fellows in the kingdom, mind you—to listen to a man like John here telling his own story in his own way. You’ll have to tell your story in their way; that is, in two different ways. There’ll be one fellow’ll make you tell it his way first, and another fellow’ll make you tell it again his way afterwards; and its odds but what the first’ll be at you again after that, till you won’t know whether you stand on your heels or your head.”
“That can’t be right,” said Mrs. Moulder.
“And why can’t it be right?” said Moulder. “They’re paid for it; it’s their duties; just as it’s my duty to sell Hubbles and Grease’s sugar. It’s not for me to say the sugar’s bad, or the samples not equal to the last. My duty is to sell, and I sell;—and it’s their duty to get a verdict.”
“But the truth, Moulder—!” said Kenneby.
“Gammon!” said Moulder. “Begging your pardon, Mrs. Smiley, for making use of the expression. Look you here, John; if you’re paid to bring a man off not guilty, won’t you bring him off if you can? I’ve been at trials times upon times, and listened till I’ve wished from the bottom of my heart that I’d been brought up a barrister. Not that I think much of myself, and I mean of course with education and all that accordingly. It’s beautiful to hear them. You’ll see a little fellow in a wig, and he’ll get up; and there’ll be a man in the box before him—some swell dressed up to his eyes, who thinks no end of strong beer of himself; and in about ten minutes he’ll be as flabby as wet paper, and he’ll say—on his oath, mind you—just anything that that little fellow wants him to say. That’s power, mind you, and I call it beautiful.”
“But it ain’t justice,” said Mrs. Smiley.
“Why not? I say it is justice. You can have it if you choose to pay for it, and so can I. If I buy a greatcoat against the winter, and you go out at night without having one, is it injustice because you’re perished by the cold while I’m as warm as a toast. I say it’s a grand thing to live in a country where one can buy a greatcoat.”
The argument had got so far, Mr. Moulder certainly having the best of it, when a ring at the outer door was heard.
“Now who on earth is that?” said Moulder.
“Snengkeld, I shouldn’t wonder,” said his wife.
“I hope it ain’t no stranger,” said Mrs. Smiley. “Situated as John and I are now, strangers is so disagreeable.” And then the door was opened by the maidservant, and Mr. Kantwise was shown into the room.
“Halloo, Kantwise!” said Mr. Moulder, not rising from his chair, or giving any very decided tokens of welcome. “I thought you were down somewhere among the iron foundries?”
“So I was, Mr. Moulder, but I came up yesterday. Mrs. Moulder, allow me to have the honour. I hope I see you quite well; but looking at you I need not ask. Mr. Kenneby, sir, your very humble servant. The day’s coming on fast; isn’t it, Mr. Kenneby? Ma’am, your very obedient. I believe I haven’t the pleasure of being acquainted.”
“Mrs. Smiley, Mr. Kantwise. Mr. Kantwise, Mrs. Smiley,” said the lady of the house, introducing her visitors to each other in the appropriate way.
“Quite delighted, I’m sure,” said Kantwise.
“Smiley as is, and Kenneby as will be this day three weeks,” said Moulder; and then they all enjoyed that little joke, Mrs. Smiley by no means appearing bashful in the matter although Mr. Kantwise was a stranger.
“I thought I should find Mr. Kenneby here,” said Kantwise, when the subject of the coming nuptials had been sufficiently discussed, “and therefore I just stepped in. No intrusion, I hope, Mr. Moulder.”
“All right,” said Moulder; “make yourself at home. There’s the stuff on the table. You know what the tap is.”
“I’ve just parted from—Mr. Dockwrath,” said Kantwise, speaking in a tone of voice which implied the great importance of the communication, and looking round the table to see the effect of it upon the circle.
“Then you’ve parted from a very low-lived party, let me tell you that,” said Moulder. He had not forgotten Dockwrath’s conduct in the commercial room at Leeds, and was fully resolved that he never would forgive it.
“That’s as may be,” said Kantwise. “I say nothing on that subject at the present moment, either one way or the other. But I think you’ll all agree as to this: that at the present moment Mr. Dockwrath fills a conspicuous place in the public eye.”
“By no means so conspicuous as John Kenneby,” said Mrs. Smiley, “if I may be allowed in my position to hold an opinion.”
“That’s as may be, ma’am. I say nothing about that. What I hold by is, that Mr. Dockwrath does hold a conspicuous place in the public eye. I’ve just parted with him in Gray’s Inn Lane, and he says—that it’s all up now with Lady Mason.”
“Gammon!” said Moulder. And on this occasion Mrs. Smiley did not rebuke him.
