Part 22 (1/2)

”Yes,” I said; ”tell me about it.”

”You guessed, of course, that it is a matter that affects me deeply and seriously?”

”I was afraid so. I could not be certain, of course, but I felt that it was much more than an ethical conundrum.”

”G.o.d knows it was, and He knows, too, that I am grateful to you for the clear lead you gave, suspecting, as you must have done, that it meant much to me.”

Had I suspected? I suppose I did, for my heart, I remember, beat painfully; yet I had not thought much more of it since. I looked at him, and saw that his face was white but resolute, and I said hesitatingly:

”I am sorry if you are in trouble, but Farmer Goodenough thinks that troubles are blessings in disguise. I wish I could give you more than second-hand comfort.”

”I am going to tell you exactly where I stand,” he said, ”and you must not allow your woman's instinct of comfort to cloud or bias your judgment. Goodenough may be right, but if I take the step I contemplate it will not be because I expect good to result to myself--though there may be, no doubt, a certain spiritual gain--but because it is the only course possible to me if I am to retain my self-respect.

”You will hardly have heard of a rather prominent case in which I figured recently as counsel for the plaintiff.”

”Lessingham _versus_ Mainwaring?” I queried.

”You have heard of it then? Do you know the details?”

”Not at all. I simply read in the paper that you had won the case for your client.”

”I see. Well, it would take too long, and would be too uninteresting to you to explain everything, but put briefly the case was this.

Mainwaring had got hold of a considerable sum of money--over 7,000, as a matter of fact--which Lessingham claimed belonged to him. There were a great many points which were interesting to lawyers, and when the plaintiff's brief was offered to me I jumped at it. A barrister has often to wait a long time before any plums fall to his share, but this was a big one, for the other side had engaged two of the most eminent counsel in the land; and I had a big figure marked on my brief.

”We had a tremendous fight, and in the heat of the forensic duel I lost sight of everything except the one goal of triumphant and overwhelming victory. I have no desire to speak of my accomplishment in terms that may sound egotistical, but I may say without affectation that I found all the weak places in the defence and used every talent I could command to crush my opponents, and I succeeded, and became for a week one of the most talked-of men in London. Outwardly collected, I was inwardly exalted above measure, for I knew what the winning of the case meant for me.

”I say I knew. I should have said I thought I knew. All I realised was that briefs would now be showered upon me, as they have been--as they are being. What I failed to realise was that I should have to stand at the bar of my own conscience, and be tried by the inexorable judge whose sentences are without mercy. That came to pa.s.s quickly, and I was condemned, and on appeal you confirmed the judgment.”

”I? Oh, Mr. Derwent!”

”During the course of the trial I became convinced, or at any rate I had grave reasons for suspecting that my client was a scoundrel, and had no right to a penny of the money. The conviction came in part from what was revealed to me in conversation with him, and in part from what came out in evidence, but at the moment I did not care. I was paid to win my case, not to secure justice. That was for the judge and jury.

There was more than that, however. It was not the l.u.s.t of gain, but the l.u.s.t of glory that obsessed me. I, Philip Derwent, was going to defeat Ritson and Friend at whatever cost.

”But, Miss Holden, I have inherited certain qualities which are likely to put awkward obstacles in the path of ambition. My father was a good man. He was scrupulously, fastidiously honest. He believed that the principles of the Sermon on the Mount could and should be practised in everyday life. Consequently he never made much money, and was terribly disappointed when his only son adopted the law as a profession.

Some--not all, but some--of his qualities are in my blood; and the voice of conscience is always telling me that the father was a better man than the son, and that, unless I am careful, I shall sell my life for power and possessions; and I have made up my mind to be careful.

”Well, I have made inquiries--carefully and without hurry--and I now know for a fact that Mainwaring had every right to that money, and that Lessingham is a fraud, so that my course is clear. I have seen Lessingham, and he laughs in my face. 'You knew it at the time, old man!' he said; 'and a jolly good thing you've made out of it.' There was no chance of putting things right from that quarter.”

”But, Mr. Derwent,” I interrupted, ”surely in your profession this is an everyday occurrence. Both sides cannot be right, and both need legal a.s.sistance.”

”True,” he replied, ”and you must quite understand my att.i.tude. I am not judging any of my brethren: to their own master they stand or fall.

But for myself, I am not going to support any case, in the future, which I am not convinced is a just one. If, after accepting a brief, I have reason to believe that I am espousing an unjust cause I will throw it up at whatever sacrifice.”

”I am afraid it will mean _great_ sacrifice,” I murmured.

”Would you recommend me not to do it?” he asked.