"_Come immediately. Important news for you._"
It was a telegram from the Governor, who had been in London again.
Stowell went up to Douglas by the first train.
"It's about the Deemstership."
"Ah!"
"Old Taubman, as you know, has been complaining of overwork ever
since your father died. The winter had crippled him and he is down
with rheumatism. Fortnightly courts being postponed, cases in
arrears--it was necessary to do something. So I went up to Whitehall
last week and told them a successor would have to be appointed. They
asked me to recommend a name and I recommended yours."
"Mine, Sir?"
"Yours! It was all right, too, until I had to tell them your age,
and then--phew! A judge and not yet thirty! I stood to my ground,
said this was the age of youth, quoted the classical examples.
Anyhow, there was my recommendation--take it or leave it."
"And what was the result, Sir?"
"The result was that the Lord Chief was consulted, and then our
insignificance saved us. Yes, there was precedent enough for young
judges in colonies and dependencies. And this being a case of a
worthy son succeeding a worthy father .... and so on and so forth."
"Well?"
"Well, the end of it is that you are to go up to see the Home
Secretary after the House has risen at Easter."
Stowell's heart was beating high, yet he hardly knew whether he was
more proud than afraid. He mumbled something about the claims of his
seniors at the bar.
"Oh yes, I know! All the old stick-in-the-muds! But keep your end
up in London and I'll keep mine up here."
"You are very good, Sir. You have always been good to me."
The Governor, who had been rattling on, in a rush of high spirits,
suddenly became grave and spoke slowly.
"Not at all," he said. "And I'm not thinking of you as .... what you
are going to be. I'm thinking of you as your father's son, and
expecting you to live up to your traditions. We want the spirit of
the great Deemster in the island these days. Violence! Violence!
Violence! I agree with the Lord Chief. It seems as if the world is
getting out of hand. Justice is the only thing that can save it from
anarchy--utter anarchy and ruin. Let's have no more recommendations
to mercy! When people commit crime let them suffer. When they take
life--no matter who or what they are--let them die for it."
"And by the way" (Stowell was leaving the room), "your father's
portrait is finished. We must unveil it before you go up to London."
Trembling all over, Stowell went into the library to tell Fenella.
"How splendid!" she said. She was glowing with excitement. "You've
done magnificent work for women as an advocate, but only think what
you will be able to do as a judge! There isn't a poor, wronged girl
in the island who won't know that she has a friend on the Bench!"