ATTORNEY AND CLIENT.
In a hall of stone stood a room of glass, and in that room the inmates
of Cross Key Jail were permitted to have access to their legal advisers.
They were not lost sight of by the jealous guardians of the place, one
of whom perambulated the hall throughout the interview; but though he
could see all that passed, he could hear nothing. Mr. Weasel of Plymouth
was very well known at Cross Key as being a frequent visitor to that
transparent apartment, and those prisoners whom he favored with his
attentions were justly held in high estimation by the warders, as
gentlemen who, though in difficulties, had at least some considerable
command of ready money. He was waiting now, with his hat on (which he
always wore, to increase his very limited stature), in this chamber of
audience; and so withered up he looked, and such a sharp, shrunk face he
had, that Richard, seeing him in the glass case, might have thought him
some dried specimen of humanity, not alive at all, had he not chanced to
be in the act of taking snuff; and even that was ghostly too, since it
produced the pantomimic action of sneezing without its accompanying
sound.
"Mr. Richard Yorke, I believe?" said he, as soon as they were shut up
within the walls of glass, "I am glad to make your acquaintance, Sir,
though I wish, for your sake, that it happened in another place. You'll
excuse my not offering you my hand."
Richard drew back his extended arm and turned crimson.
"Don't be offended, Sir," said the lawyer; "but the fact is, the
authorities here don't like it. There are some parties in this place who
employ very queer legal advisers; and in shaking hands, a file or a
gimlet, and a bit of tobacco, are as likely to pass as not. That warder
can see every thing, my dear young Sir; but he can no more hear what we
say than he can understand what a couple of bumble-bees are murmuring
about who are barred up in a double window. We can therefore converse
with one another as much without reserve as we please, or rather"--and
here the little man's eyes twinkled significantly--"as _you_ please.
What I hear from a client in this ridiculous place is never revealed
beyond it, except so far as it may serve his interests. If Mr. Dodge (to
whose favor, as I understand, I owe this introduction) has told you any
thing concerning me, he will, I am sure, have advised you to be quite
frank and candid."
"There was no necessity for such a warning, Mr. Weasel, in my case, I do
assure you," answered Richard, earnestly. "I have nothing to conceal
from you with respect to the circumstances of my position: they are
unfortunate, and doubtless very suspicious; but I am as innocent of this
disgraceful charge--"
"Hush, hush! my dear Sir; this will never do. It is mere waste of time,
though it might have been much worse. Good Heavens! suppose you had been
guilty, and told me _that_! you would have placed me in the most
embarrassing situation, as your professional adviser, it is possible for
the human mind to conceive. What I want to know is _your_ story, so far
as these two thousand pounds found in your possession are concerned.
Whether it is true or not, does not matter a button. I want to know
whether it _seems_ true; whether it will seem true to a judge and jury.
You have thought the matter over, of course; you have gone through it in
your own mind from beginning to end--now please to go over it to me."
The little man whipped out a note-book, leaned forward in his chair, and
looked all eye and ear, like a terrier watching at a rat-hole.
After a moment's pause, Richard stated his case pretty much as we are
already acquainted with it; the little lawyer interrupting him now and
then by a gesture, but never by a word, in order that he might set down
a point or a memorandum.
"Very good," said Mr. Weasel, when he had quite finished. "That's your
story, is it?"
"It's the truth, Sir."
"Hush! my dear young Sir. We shall have enough of that--the truth, the
whole truth, and nothing but the truth--a fortnight hence. What you and
I have to consider are the probabilities. Why did you go to Plymouth,
more than any other place, to change these notes?"
"Because I had heard there was a Miners' Bank there, and Trevethick had
mentioned the notes of that company as being as good, in his opinion, as
those of the Bank of England. I thought it would be easier to get the
Mining notes in exchange for those of the Bank of England, than others
of the same bank."
"The check which you showed this Trevethick was not, then, a _bonâ fide_
piece of paper, eh?"
"It was not," said Richard, casting down his eyes.
"Very good," answered the lawyer, so cheerfully that you would have
thought his client had cleared himself of the least suspicion upon
_that_ score, at all events. "Now, where did you get it?"
"My mother sent me a blank check, at my request, and I filled it in."
"That check is destroyed, you say--you burned it, of course?"
"No; I tore it up, and threw it out of the window of the carriage."
"The devil you did!" said Mr. Weasel, in perturbation. "That is not the
way to destroy checks. Had your mother an account at the bank on which
it was drawn?"
"Of course." said Richard, simply.
"There is nothing 'of course,' Mr. Yorke, in this matter," answered the
lawyer, gravely. "Are you quite sure?"
"Quite. She has always had an account there; though to no such amount as
two thousand pounds."
"It is a large sum," muttered the lawyer, thoughtfully, "but still they
have not lost one penny of it. In case things went against you, Mr.
Yorke, would an appeal to the prosecutor be likely to be of service?"
"Certainly not," answered Richard, hastily. "I would not accept mercy at
his hands; besides, it is not a question of mercy."
"It may come to that," observed the other, gravely. "We must not deceive
ourselves, Mr. Yorke."
"Good Heavens! do you believe, then, that I took this money with intent
to steal it?"
"What my belief is is of no consequence, one way or the other; but my
opinion is that the jury will take that view, if they hear your story as
you tell it. The fact is, you have left out the most important incident
of all: the whole case will hinge upon the young lady's having given you
these notes with her own hand. It is evident, of course, that she
sympathized with you in your scheme," pursued the lawyer, rapidly, and
holding up his finger to forbid the protest that was already rising to
Richard's lip: "nothing could be more natural, though most imprudent and
ill judged, than her behavior. She had no more idea of stealing the
money than you had; how should she, since it was in a manner her own,
she being her father's sole heiress. You and I see that clearly enough,
but to a jury used to mere matters of fact, motive has little
significance unless put into action. What we want, and what we must
have, is evidence that you got these notes, not only for this girl's
sake, but from her fingers. Nobody can hurt _her_, you know. Trevethick
could never prosecute his own daughter; indeed, the whole affair
dwindles down to a lover's stratagem, and there is no need for
prosecuting any body, if we can only put Harry Trevethick into the
witness-box. Now can we, Mr. Yorke, or can we not? that's the question."
Richard was silent; the lawyer's argument struck him with its full
force. He had no scruples on the matter for his own part, but he feared
that Harry might entertain them--they would be only too much in keeping
with her credulous and superstitious nature.
"If I could talk to her alone for five minutes," muttered Richard,
uneasily.
"That is impossible," said Mr. Weasel, with decision. "We can only play
with such cards as we hold. I could go to Gethin myself, though it would
be most inconvenient at this busy time, and refresh this young woman's
memory; but it is a delicate task, and would be looked upon by the other
side with some suspicion. Now, is there no judicious friend that can be
thoroughly depended upon--a female friend, if possible, since the affair
may require tact and sympathy--to effect this little negotiation? Think,
my good Sir, think."
"Why, there is my mother herself!" ejaculated Richard, suddenly. "She is
the wisest of women, and the very one to conduct this matter, if
properly instructed."
"Is she, now, is she?" said the lawyer, cheerily. "Come, come, that's
well, and I begin to see a little light. Let her go down to Gethin,
where, as I conclude, she is not known, and see Miss Trevethick herself.
I should like to see her beforehand, however; indeed, that is absolutely
necessary."
"In my note to her, yesterday, I asked her to call at your office in
Plymouth on her way hither," stammered Richard. "I thought it
better--that is, in the first instance--that she should hear from you
how matters stood."
Mr. Weasel took a copious pinch of snuff, and shut his eyes, as though
he were going to sneeze. Whenever a client got upon an embarrassing
topic Mr. Weasel took snuff, to obviate the necessity of looking him in
the face; while, in case of any compromising disclosure, Mr. Weasel
sneezed, to obviate hearing it.
"In a case of this kind, Mr. Yorke, not a moment is to be lost. I should
advise your mother's going direct to Gethin from my house, and making
sure of this young lady's evidence. There is even a possibility--I don't
say it is probable, but there is just a chance, you see--that she may be
subpoenaed _by the other side_."
"Just so," assented Richard, so naïvely that a smile flitted across the
little lawyer's face.
"Under these circumstances, then, this is what we will do, my dear young
Sir: Mrs. Yorke will go to the _Gethin Castle_ as a guest, and, as I
shall venture to suggest, under another name; she will then find an
opportunity of speaking to Miss Trevethick without awakening her
father's suspicions; and when she comes to Cross Key, she will have, I
trust, some good news to bring you, something to talk about (although
you must be very careful and guarded, mind that, for you will not be
left alone together, as we are) besides mere regrets and lamentations;
don't you see, don't you see?"
Richard saw exceedingly well, and felt more grateful to the lawyer for
devising such an arrangement than he would like to have confessed;
nevertheless, he did thank him heartily.
"Not at all, not at all, my dear young Sir," drawing on one of his
gloves, in signal of departure. "In a case like this, we must consult
feelings as well as array our facts; we must bring heart and head to
bear together. Speaking of head reminds me, by-the-by, of the subject of
counsel. I propose to instruct Mr. Smoothbore, who leads upon this
circuit; I gather from your letter that there will be no difficulty with
respect to funds."
"Whatever may be necessary, Mr. Weasel, for my defense will be, you may
rest assured, forthcoming. My mother--"
The smile disappeared from the lawyer's face with electrical rapidity.
"Pardon me, my young friend," said he; "but as a professional man, I
only deal with principals in these matters. The word forthcoming is a
little vague. Counsel are paid beforehand, you must remember."
We must not be angry with Mr. Weasel, who was really a good sort of man
after his kind. He was naturally cautious, and if he had been the most
trustful of mankind his experience would have taught him prudence. He
did like to see his money down; and really, as to Mr. Yorke, all he knew
of his pecuniary position was with relation to that blank check, the
history of which was not of a nature to inspire confidence.
"I was about to observe," said Richard, haughtily, "that my mother would
satisfy all claims; but, in the mean time, there were over a hundred
pounds in notes and gold which were found upon me when I was searched at
Plymouth. If you doubt me, you have only to make inquiries."
"My dear young Sir," returned the lawyer, earnestly, "this is not
courteous, this is not kind. I never doubted you from the first moment
that I saw you; no one with any knowledge of mankind could do so.
Professional etiquette compelled me to remark that I could treat with
principals only, that is all. Let me see," added he, consulting his
note-book, "have I any thing more to say? Yes, yes. With respect to this
young lady, Miss Harry Trevethick--I did not like to interrupt you at
the time, but I see I have made a memorandum--is she pretty?"
"She is very, very beautiful," said Richard, earnestly, the remembrance
of her beauty giving a tenderness to his tone.
"That's capital!" nodded the lawyer. "Old Bantam is our judge this
session, and he likes a pretty face. So do we all, for the matter of
that, I hope. You are young and good-looking yourself, too; Smoothbore
will make something of _that_, you may depend upon it. 'Gracious
Heavens, is the iron arm of the law to sunder these happy lovers for a
mere indiscretion, and make their bright young lives a blank forever?'
He'll give them something like that, Sir, in a voice broken by emotion,
and bring you off with flying colors."
"I don't care about the colors, if he only brings me off," said Richard,
grimly.
"A very natural remark, my dear young Sir, for one in your present
situation; but three weeks hence, as I both hope and believe, you will
not be so easily satisfied; the more we have, the more we want, you
know--except in the matter of time. I have very little to spare of it
just now, and must therefore take my leave."
Mr. Weasel had put on his other glove and his hat, and, with a cheerful
nod, had actually placed his fingers on the door-handle, when he
suddenly turned round, and said: "By-the-by, I had almost forgotten a
little form of words, which in your case I am sure will be _but_ a form,
and yet I do not like to omit it. I never leave a client in your
position without asking him the question; so you must excuse me, my
young friend, and not be offended."
"I am not in a position to be very sensitive about what is said to me,"
answered Richard, bitterly. "Pray ask whatever you please."
Mr. Weasel looked cautiously round, to see that the warder was not too
near, and lowered his voice to a whisper. "Is this little affair your
first, my dear young Sir? I mean," added he, "have you ever been in
trouble with the law before?"
"Certainly not," replied Richard, smiling.
"I had anticipated your answer," said the little lawyer, gayly; "but I
thought it right to make quite certain. Because, if the affair should
happen to reach a stage where the question of 'character' is mooted
(though it won't get so far as _that_, I trust, in our case), one
doesn't like to be taken altogether by surprise, do you see? You have
been a landscape-painter, you say. A most innocent and charming
occupation, I am sure, and one which Smoothbore will make the very most
of. The case altogether will afford him such opportunities that he
really ought to do it cheap. And you've never been any thing else, have
you? never had any other calling, or obtained your livelihood by any
other than quite legal and permissible means--eh? What, what? You have
not been quite frank and candid with me, my dear Sir, I fear."
"It is really not of much consequence," said Richard, hesitating.
"You must allow me to be the judge of that, Mr. Yorke," said the other,
gravely, taking off his hat once more and one of his gloves. "Imagine
yourself a good Catholic, if you please, with Father Weasel for your
priest."
The confession lasted for some minutes.
"I think you will admit that what I have told you has not much bearing
upon the matter in hand," said Richard, when he had finished.
"None at all, none at all--that is, I hope not," answered the other,
thoughtfully. "But what an interesting revelation it is! What a nice
point as to whether the matter is an offense against the law or not! How
prettily Smoothbore would treat the subject, if it chanced to come in
his way!" He looked at Richard with admiration. "You're a most
remarkable young man, Sir; I wish that circumstances permitted of my
shaking you by the hand. Good-morning, my dear Sir. You may depend upon
my not permitting the grass to grow under my feet. When your mother
comes she will have good news for you. Good-morning."
The warder took possession of Richard, while Mr. Weasel, followed by the
young man's longing eyes, was ushered to the opposite door, on the other
side of which was liberty. But the lawyer's mind was still within the
prison walls, though his legs were free, and walking up the street of
the little town toward his inn.
"Now, that is really a most remarkable young man," he murmured to
himself. "A most ingenious young fellow, upon my word. The idea of his
having invented a new crime! Why, bless my heart, it's quite an
epoch--quite an epoch!"