“I asked timidly how much this further step would cost, and was somewhat relieved to learn that fifty dinars to each of these eminent men would be sufficient. He asked me to return on the third day when he would give me the responses; and he particularly reminded me that I should upon that occasion not forget to bring with me at least 150 dinars.
“ ‘But why the other fifty?’ said I.
“ ‘Stamps and fees,’ said the scrivener shortly, and then, with infinite courtesy, dismissed me from his presence.
“On the third day I returned, bearing with me the 150 dinars from my little hoard, which I put upon the scrivener’s table to save all further difficulties in the matter. He poured the money meditatively into a little metal case, beautifully engraved, and dating, I should say, from the second century of the Flight of the Prophet; it was probably (to my practised eye) of Syrian workmanship.
“ ‘Here,’ said he, ‘are the responses.’
“ ‘Have you them written?’ said I.
“ ‘No,’ said he. ‘We must wait for that. The first pleader, by name the Most Noble Ghadder, is of the opinion that you have a case founded upon the great principle of our Common Law, of which you, perhaps, as a foreigner, have not heard—it is the principle that “The subjects of the king can suffer no wrong.” But he warns you against relying upon the Statute passed in the first year of His Majesty’s father’s reign, called “A Statute for the Prevention of the Loss of Money by the Rich.” For this has been the subject of so many contradictory decisions that it is a very poor ground. He says, further, that there are certain case precedents which are interesting, and two of which, at least, in his judgment, could be urged upon your side. In one of these it was decided that if a man had more than a certain income no order or proclamation should be regarded as capable of prejudicing him or reducing his wealth. The question would thus lie as to whether or no at the time when the first change took place you fell within these limits. The second pleader is of an exactly opposite opinion. He says …’
“ ‘It is enough!’ said I. ‘The first learned pleader shall be my guide. I am content to hear from him that I have a good case, which doubtless he will continue for me in court.’
“ ‘What?’ said the scrivener, in astonishment, ‘do you suppose that such men lend their valuable services in court for fifty dinars?’
“ ‘Evidently,’ said I, ‘as they have been so kind as to give opinions with such nicety!’
“The scrivener laughed as heartily as such men can, and begged me to be disabused. ‘These are but the formal stages. The hiring of pleaders is quite another matter. Let me proceed to the second response. The second pleader, the Most Noble Makhar—who, it may interest you to know, is a negro by descent—we have many such at our bar, they have marvellous abilities, that strange race—is of an opinion, I say, exactly contrary to the other. He thinks your chance under the Common Law very doubtful. But he thinks you are secure under the Statute passed for the Prevention of Cruelty to the Important—that is its general title—dated from the first year of the reign of His Majesty’s late father. All the cases, he says, are against you; but the general principle of the statute stands.’
“When I had heard all this I said, ‘Oh!’
“The old scrivener gazed down at the floor between his feet, where he sat upon his rug, and I gazed down at mine, not knowing what next to say.
“ ‘My fee for this second interview,’ said he pleasantly, after what he thought was a sufficient interval, ‘is the same as for the first, ten dinars.’
“ ‘I have not brought them with me,’ I said, having only brought the 150 dinars previously asked for.
“ ‘It is nothing, my lord,’ he answered, waving his hand majestically (and again, I thought, as in the case of my friend, with a touch of patronage). ‘We all know and respect your position of late councillor, and I should be the last to press you.’
“I begged him to wait a moment until I should return. I hurried to my wretched lodgings and quickly came back with the sum which he required. He put it into the little metal box. I thought he was ready to dismiss me, and I was about to ask on what date the case might first be tried, when he said, to my surprise:
“ ‘But we must first have Pleader’s Opinion.’
“ ‘But, great Heavens!’ said I, ‘have we not got it?’
“ ‘Why, no,’ said he. ‘We have not yet a Pleader’s Opinion. We have, so far, only the Opinion of Pleaders.’
“ ‘And what in the name of Fatimeh and Katisha is the difference?’
“ ‘Surely,’ said he, ‘you have heard of the distinction? The Opinion of Pleaders is the verbal response to the scrivener, but the law requires that another response shall be added in writing, and this we call Pleader’s Opinion.’
“Once more I could find no other commentary but a cry.
“ ‘And at what cost?’ I moaned in a hollow voice.
“He turned to a written list of fees, then to a special memorandum of his own. He made a short calculation upon an abacus and answered, ‘three hundred dinars.’
“I kept my mouth from blasphemy and asked him when the sum would be required.
“ ‘It is a mere formality,’ said he, ‘this written opinion, but we must have a record.’
“ ‘Yes, yes,’ said I.
“ ‘And I will,’ said he, ‘take the opportunity of obtaining the same before you come again.’
“Once more I returned to my disgusting rooms, took money from my secret hoard and, returning, put into the scrivener’s hands a little parcel of 300 dinars. He dropped them thoughtfully through his fingers in little streams till they nearly filled his metal box.
“ ‘It is a pretty box, is it not?’ he said. ‘I took it for a bad debt from
