PEDGIFT'S REMEDY.
After waiting to hold a preliminary consultation with his son,
Mr. Pedgift the elder set forth alone for his interview with
Allan at the great house.
Allowing for the difference in their ages, the son was, in this
instance, so accurately the reflection of the father, that
an acquaintance with either of the two Pedgifts was almost
equivalent to an acquaintance with both. Add some little height
and size to the figure of Pedgift Junior, give more breadth and
boldness to his humor, and some additional solidity and composure
to his confidence in himself, and the presence and character of
Pedgift Senior stood, for all general purposes, revealed before
you.
The lawyer's conveyance to Thorpe Ambrose was his own smart gig,
drawn by his famous fast-trotting mare. It was his habit to drive
himself; and it was one among the trifling external peculiarities
in which he and his son differed a little, to affect something of
the sporting character in his dress. The drab trousers of Pedgift
the elder fitted close to his legs; his boots, in dry weather
and wet alike, were equally thick in the sole; his coat pockets
overlapped his hips, and his favorite summer cravat was of light
spotted muslin, tied in the neatest and smallest of bows. He used
tobacco like his son, but in a different form. While the younger
man smoked, the elder took snuff copiously; and it was noticed
among his intimates that he always held his "pinch" in a state of
suspense between his box and his nose when he was going to clinch
a good bargain or to say a good thing. The art of diplomacy
enters largely into the practice of all successful men in
the lower branch of the law. Mr. Pedgift's form of diplomatic
practice had been the same throughout his life, on every occasion
when he found his arts of persuasion required at an interview
with another man. He invariably kept his strongest argument,
or his boldest proposal, to the last, and invariably remembered
it at the door (after previously taking his leave), as if it was
a purely accidental consideration which had that instant occurred
to him. Jocular friends, acquainted by previous experience with
this form of proceeding, had given it the name of "Pedgift's
postscript." There were few people in Thorpe Ambrose who did not
know what it meant when the lawyer suddenly checked his exit
at the opened door; came back softly to his chair, with his pinch
of snuff suspended between his box and his nose; said, "By-the-by,
there's a point occurs to me;" and settled the question off-hand,
after having given it up in despair not a minute before.
This was the man whom the march of events at Thorpe Ambrose had
now thrust capriciously into a foremost place. This was the one
friend at hand to whom Allan in his social isolation could turn
for counsel in the hour of need.
"Good-evening, Mr. Armadale. Many thanks for your prompt
attention to my very disagreeable letter," said Pedgift Senior,
opening the conversation cheerfully the moment he entered his
client's house. "I hope you understand, sir, that I had really
no choice under the circumstances but to write as I did?"
"I have very few friends, Mr. Pedgift," returned Allan, simply.
"And I am sure you are one of the few."
"Much obliged, Mr. Armadale. I have always tried to deserve your
good opinion, and I mean, if I can, to deserve it now. You found
yourself comfortable, I hope, sir, at the hotel in London? We
call it Our hotel. Some rare old wine in the cellar, which I
should have introduced to your notice if I had had the honor of
being with you. My son unfortunately knows nothing about wine."
Allan felt his false position in the neighborhood far too acutely
to be capable of talking of anything but the main business of the
evening. His lawyer's politely roundabout method of approaching
the painful subject to be discussed between them rather irritated
than composed him. He came at once to the point, in his own
bluntly straightforward way.
"The hotel was very comfortable, Mr. Pedgift, and your son was
very kind to me. But we are not in London now; and I want to talk
to you about how I am to meet the lies that are being told of me
in this place. Only point me out any one man," cried Allan, with
a rising voice and a mounting color--"any one man who says I am
afraid to show my face in the neighborhood, and I'll horsewhip
him publicly before another day is over his head!"
Pedgift Senior helped himself to a pinch of snuff, and held it
calmly in suspense midway between his box and his nose.
"You can horsewhip a man, sir; but you can't horsewhip a
neighborhood," said the lawyer, in his politely epigrammatic
manner. "We will fight our battle, if you please, without
borrowing our weapons of the coachman yet a while, at any rate."
"But how are we to begin?" asked Allan, impatiently. "How am I
to contradict the infamous things they say of me?"
"There are two ways of stepping out of your present awkward
position, sir--a short way, and a long way," replied Pedgift
Senior. "The short way (which is always the best) has occurred to
me since I have heard of your proceedings in London from my son.
I understand that you permitted him, after you received my
letter, to take me into your confidence. I have drawn various
conclusions from what he has told me, which I may find it
necessary to trouble you with presently. In the meantime I should
be glad to know under what circumstances you went to London to
make these unfortunate inquiries about Miss Gwilt? Was it your
own notion to pay that visit to Mrs. Mandeville? or were you
acting under the influence of some other person?"
Allan hesitated. "I can't honestly tell you it was my own
notion," he replied, and said no more.
"I thought as much!" remarked Pedgift Senior, in high triumph.
"The short way out of our present difficulty, Mr. Armadale, lies
straight through that other person, under whose influence you
acted. That other person must be presented forthwith to public
notice, and must stand in that other person's proper place.
The name, if you please, sir, to begin with--we'll come to the
circumstances directly."
"I am sorry to say, Mr. Pedgift, that we must try the longest
way, if you have no objection," replied Allan, quietly. "The
short way happens to be a way I can't take on this occasion."
The men who rise in the law are the men who decline to take No
for an answer. Mr. Pedgift the elder had risen in the law; and
Mr. Pedgift the elder now declined to take No for an answer. But
all pertinacity--even professional pertinacity included--sooner
or later finds its limits; and the lawyer, doubly fortified as
he was by long experience and copious pinches of snuff, found
his limits at the very outset of the interview. It was impossible
that Allan could respect the confidence which Mrs. Milroy had
treacherously affected to place in him. But he had an honest
man's regard for his own pledged word--the regard which looks
straightforward at the fact, and which never glances sidelong at
the circumstances--and the utmost persistency of Pedgift Senior
failed to move him a hairbreadth from the position which he had
taken up. "No" is the strongest word in the English language,
in the mouth of any man who has the courage to repeat it often
enough, and Allan had the courage to repeat it often enough on
this occasion.
"Very good, sir," said the lawyer, accepting his defeat without
the slightest loss of temper. "The choice rests with you, and you
have chosen. We will go the long way. It starts (allow me to
inform you) from my office; and it leads (as I strongly suspect)
through a very miry road to--Miss Gwilt."
Allan looked at his legal adviser in speechless astonishment.
"If you won't expose the person who is responsible in the first
instance, sir, for the inquiries to which you unfortunately lent
yourself," proceeded Mr. Pedgift the elder, "the only other
alternative, in your present position, is to justify the
inquiries themselves."
"And how is that to be done?" inquired Allan.
"By proving to the whole neighborhood, Mr. Armadale, what I
firmly believe to be the truth--that the pet object of the public
protection is an adventuress of the worst class; an undeniably
worthless and dangerous woman. In plainer English still, sir,
by employing time enough and money enough to discover the truth
about Miss Gwilt."
Before Allan could say a word in answer, there was an
interruption at the door. After the usual preliminary knock,
one of the servants came in.
"I told you I was not to be interrupted," said Allan, irritably.
"Good heavens! am I never to have done with them? Another
letter!"
"Yes, sir," said the man, holding it out. "And," he added,
speaking words of evil omen in his master's ears, "the person
waits for an answer."
Allan looked at the address of the letter with a natural
expectation of encountering the handwriting of the major's wife.
The anticipation was not realized. His correspondent was plainly
a lady, but the lady was not Mrs. Milroy.
"Who can it be?" he said, looking mechanically at Pedgift Senior
as he opened the envelope.
Pedgift Senior gently tapped his snuff-box, and said, without a
moment's hesitation, "Miss Gwilt."
Allan opened the letter. The first two words in it were the echo
of the two words the lawyer had just pronounced. It _was_ Miss
Gwilt!
Once more, Allan looked at his legal adviser in speechless
astonishment.
"I have known a good many of them in my time, sir," explained
Pedgift Senior, with a modesty equally rare and becoming in a man
of his age. "Not as handsome as Miss Gwilt, I admit. But quite as
bad, I dare say. Read your letter, Mr. Armadale--read your
letter."
Allan read these lines:
"Miss Gwilt presents her compliments to Mr. Armadale and begs
to know if it will be convenient to him to favor her with an
interview, either this evening or to-morrow morning. Miss Gwilt
offers no apology for making her present request. She believes
Mr. Armadale will grant it as an act of justice toward a
friendless woman whom he has been innocently the means of
injuring, and who is earnestly desirous to set herself right
in his estimation."
Allan handed the letter to his lawyer in silent perplexity and
distress.
The face of Mr. Pedgift the elder expressed but one feeling when
he had read the letter in his turn and had handed it back--a
feeling of profound admiration. "What a lawyer she would have
made," he exclaimed, fervently, "if she had only been a man!"
"I can't treat this as lightly as you do, Mr. Pedgift," said
Allan. "It's dreadfully distressing to me. I was so fond of her,"
he added, in a lower tone--"I was so fond of her once."
Mr. Pedgift Senior suddenly became serious on his side.
"Do you mean to say, sir, that you actually contemplate seeing
Miss Gwilt?" he asked, with an expression of genuine dismay.
"I can't treat her cruelly," returned Allan. "I have been the
means of injuring her--without intending it, God knows! I can't
treat her cruelly after that! "
"Mr. Armadale," said the lawyer, "you did me the honor, a little
while since, to say that you considered me your friend. May I
presume on that position to ask you a question or two, before you
go straight to your own ruin?"
"Any questions you like," said Allan, looking back at the
letter--the only letter he had ever received from Miss Gwilt.
"You have had one trap set for you already, sir, and you have
fallen into it. Do you want to fall into another?"
"You know the answer to that question, Mr. Pedgift, as well as
I do."
"I'll try again, Mr. Armadale; we lawyers are not easily
discouraged. Do you think that any statement Miss Gwilt might
make to you, if you do see her, would be a statement to be relied
on, after what you and my son discovered in London?"
"She might explain what we discovered in London," suggested
Allan, still looking at the writing, and thinking of the hand
that had traced it.
"_Might_ explain it? My dear sir, she is quite certain to explain
it! I will do her justice: I believe she would make out a case
without a single flaw in it from beginning to end."
That last answer forced Allan's attention away from the letter.
The lawyer's pitiless common sense showed him no mercy.
"If you see that woman again, sir," proceeded Pedgift Senior,
"you will commit the rashest act of folly I ever heard of in all
my experience. She can have but one object in coming here--to
practice on your weakness for her. Nobody can say into what false
step she may not lead you, if you once give her the opportunity.
You admit yourself that you have been fond of her; your
attentions to her have been the subject of general remark;
if you haven't actually offered her the chance of becoming Mrs.
Armadale, you have done the next thing to it; and knowing all
this, you propose to see her, and to let her work on you with her
devilish beauty and her devilish cleverness, in the character of
your interesting victim! You, who are one of the best matches in
England! You, who are the natural prey of all the hungry single
women in the community! I never heard the like of it; I never, in
all my professional experience, heard the like of it! If you must
positively put yourself in a dangerous position, Mr. Armadale,"
concluded Pedgift the elder, with the everlasting pinch of snuff
held in suspense between his box and his nose, "there's a
wild-beast show coming to our town next week. Let in the tigress,
sir; don't let in Miss Gwilt!"
For the third time Allan looked at his lawyer. And for the third
time his lawyer looked back at him quite unabashed.
"You seem to have a very bad opinion of Miss Gwilt," said Allan.
"The worst possible opinion, Mr. Armadale," retorted Pedgift
Senior, coolly. "We will return to that when we have sent the
lady's messenger about his business. Will you take my advice?
Will you decline to see her?"
"I would willingly decline--it would be so dreadfully distressing
to both of us," said Allan. "I would willingly decline, if I only
knew how."
"Bless my soul, Mr. Armadale, it's easy enough! Don't commit
_you_ yourself in writing. Send out to the messenger, and say
there's no answer."
The short course thus suggested was a course which Allan
positively declined to take. "It's treating her brutally,"
he said; "I can't and won't do it."
Once more the pertinacity of Pedgift the elder found its limits,
and once more that wise man yielded gracefully to a compromise.
On receiving his client's promise not to see Miss Gwilt, he
consented to Allan's committing himself in writing under his
lawyer's dictation. The letter thus produced was modeled in
Allan's own style; it began and ended in one sentence. "Mr.
Armadale presents his compliments to Miss Gwilt, and regrets
that he cannot have the pleasure of seeing her at Thorpe
Ambrose." Allan had pleaded hard for a second sentence,
explaining that he only declined Miss Gwilt's request from
a conviction that an interview would be needlessly distressing
on both sides. But his legal adviser firmly rejected the proposed
addition to the letter. "When you say No to a woman, sir,"
remarked Pedgift Senior, "always say it in one word. If you give
her your reasons, she invariably believes that you mean Yes."
Producing that little gem of wisdom from the rich mine of his
professional experience, Mr. Pedgift the elder sent out the
answer to Miss Gwilt's messenger, and recommended the servant
to "see the fellow, whoever he was, well clear of the house."
"Now, sir," said the lawyer, "we will come back, if you like,
to my opinion of Miss Gwilt. It doesn't at all agree with yours,
I'm afraid. You think her an object of pity--quite natural at
your age. I think her an object for the inside of a prison--quite
natural at mine. You shall hear the grounds on which I have
formed my opinion directly. Let me show you that I am in earnest
by putting the opinion itself, in the first place, to a practical
test. Do you think Miss Gwilt is likely to persist in paying you
a visit, Mr. Armadale, after the answer you have just sent to
her?"
"Quite impossible!" cried Allan, warmly. "Miss Gwilt is a lady;
after the letter I have sent to her, she will never come near me
again."
"There we join issue, sir," cried Pedgift Senior. "I say she will
snap her fingers at your letter (which was one of the reasons why
I objected to your writing it). I say, she is in all probability
waiting her messenger's return, in or near your grounds at this
moment. I say, she will try to force her way in here, before
four-and-twenty hours more are over your head. Egad, sir!" cried
Mr. Pedgift, looking at his watch, "it's only seven o'clock now.
She's bold enough and clever enough to catch you unawares this
very evening. Permit me to ring for the servant--permit me to
request that you will give him orders immediately to say you are
not at home. You needn't hesitate, Mr. Armadale! If you're right
about Miss Gwilt, it's a mere formality. If I'm right, it's a
wise precaution. Back your opinion, sir," said Mr. Pedgift,
ringing the bell; "I back mine!"
Allan was sufficiently nettled when the bell rang to feel ready
to give the order. But when the servant came in, past
remembrances got the better of him, and the words stuck in his
throat. "You give the order," he said to Mr. Pedgift, and walked
away abruptly to the window. "You're a good fellow!" thought the
old lawyer, looking after him, and penetrating his motive on the
instant. "The claws of that she-devil shan't scratch you if I can
help it."
The servant waited inexorably for his orders.
"If Miss Gwilt calls here, either this evening, or at any other
time," said Pedgift Senior, "Mr. Armadale is not at home. Wait!
If she asks when Mr. Armadale will be back, you don't know. Wait!
If she proposes coming in and sitting down, you have a general
order that nobody is to come in and sit down unless they have a
previous appointment with Mr. Armadale. Come!" cried old Pedgift,
rubbing his hands cheerfully when the servant had left the room,
"I've stopped her out now, at any rate! The orders are all given,
Mr. Armadale. We may go on with our conversation."
Allan came back from the window. "The conversation is not a very
pleasant one," he said. "No offense to you, but I wish it was
over."
"We will get it over as soon as possible, sir," said Pedgift
Senior, still persisting, as only lawyers and women _can_
persist, in forcing his way little by little nearer and nearer to
his own object. "Let us go back, if you please, to the practical
suggestion which I offered to you when the servant came in with
Miss Gwilt's note. There is, I repeat, only one way left for you,
Mr. Armadale, out of your present awkward position. You must
pursue your inquiries about this woman to an end--on the chance
(which I consider next to a certainty) that the end will justify
you in the estimation of the neighborhood."
"I wish to God I had never made any inquiries at all!" said
Allan. "Nothing will induce me, Mr. Pedgift, to make any more."
"Why?" asked the lawyer.
"Can you ask me why," retorted Allan, hotly, "after your son has
told you what we found out in London? Even if I had less cause to
be--to be sorry for Miss Gwilt than I have; even if it was some
other woman, do you think I would inquire any further into the
secret of a poor betrayed creature--much less expose it to the
neighborhood? I should think myself as great a scoundrel as the
man who has cast her out helpless on the world, if I did anything
of the kind. I wonder you can ask me the question--upon my soul,
I wonder you can ask me the question!"
"Give me your hand, Mr. Armadale!" cried Pedgift Senior, warmly;
"I honor you for being so angry with me. The neighborhood may say
what it pleases; you're a gentleman, sir, in the best sense
of the word. Now," pursued the lawyer, dropping Allan's hand,
and lapsing back instantly from sentiment to business, "just hear
what I have got to say in my own defense. Suppose Miss Gwilt's
real position happens to be nothing like what you are generously
determined to believe it to be?"
"We have no reason to suppose that," said Allan, resolutely.
"Such is your opinion, sir," persisted Pedgift. "Mine, founded on
what is publicly known of Miss Gwilt's proceedings here, and on
what I have seen of Miss Gwilt herself, is that she is as far as
I am from being the sentimental victim you are inclined to make
her out. Gently, Mr. Armadale! remember that I have put my
opinion to a practical test, and wait to condemn it off-hand
until events have justified you. Let me put my points, sir--make
allowances for me as a lawyer--and let me put my points. You and
my son are young men; and I don't deny that the circumstances, on
the surface, appear to justify the interpretation which, as young
men, you have placed on them. I am an old man--I know that
circumstances are not always to be taken as they appear on the
surface--and I possess the great advantage, in the present case,
of having had years of professional experience among some of the
wickedest women who ever walked this earth."
Allan opened his lips to protest, and checked himself, in despair
of producing the slightest effect. Pedgift Senior bowed in polite
acknowledgment of his client's self-restraint, and took instant
advantage of it to go on.
"All Miss Gwilt's proceedings," he resumed, "since your
unfortunate correspondence with the major show me that she
is an old hand at deceit. The moment she is threatened with
exposure--exposure of some kind, there can be no doubt, after
what you discovered in London--she turns your honorable silence
to the best possible account, and leaves the major's service in
the character of a martyr. Once out of the house, what does she
do next? She boldly stops in the neighborhood, and serves three
excellent purposes by doing so. In the first place, she shows
everybody that she is not afraid of facing another attack on her
reputation. In the second place, she is close at hand to twist
you round her little finger, and to become Mrs. Armadale in spite
of circumstances, if you (and I) allow her the opportunity. In
the third place, if you (and I) are wise enough to distrust her,
she is equally wise on her side, and doesn't give us the first
great chance of following her to London, and associating her
with her accomplices. Is this the conduct of an unhappy woman who
has lost her character in a moment of weakness, and who has been
driven unwillingly into a deception to get it back again?"
"You put it cleverly," said Allan, answering with marked
reluctance; "I can't deny that you put it cleverly."
"Your own common sense, Mr. Armadale, is beginning to tell you
that I put it justly," said Pedgift Senior. "I don't presume
to say yet what this woman's connection may be with those people
at Pimlico. All I assert is that it is not the connection you
suppose. Having stated the facts so far, I have only to add my
own personal impression of Miss Gwilt. I won't shock you, if
I can help it; I'll try if I can't put it cleverly again. She
came to my office (as I told you in my letter), no doubt to make
friends with your lawyer, if she could; she came to tell me, in
the most forgiving and Christian manner, that she didn't blame
_you_."
"Do you ever believe in anybody, Mr. Pedgift?" interposed Allan.
"Sometimes, Mr. Armadale," returned Pedgift the elder, as
unabashed as ever. "I believe as often as a lawyer can. To
proceed, sir. When I was in the criminal branch of practice,
it fell to my lot to take instructions for the defense of women
committed for trial from the women's own lips. Whatever other
difference there might be among them, I got, in time, to notice,
among those who were particularly wicked and unquestionably
guilty, one point in which they all resembled each other. Tall
and short, old and young, handsome and ugly, they all had a
secret self-possession that nothing could shake. On the surface
they were as different as possible. Some of them were in a state
of indignation; some of them were drowned in tears; some of them
were full of pious confidence; and some of them were resolved to
commit suicide before the night was out. But only put your finger
suddenly on the weak point in the story told by any one of them,
and there was an end of her rage, or her tears, or her piety, or
her despair; and out came the genuine woman, in full possession
of all her resources with a neat little lie that exactly suited
the circumstances of the case. Miss Gwilt was in tears,
sir--becoming tears that didn't make her nose red--and I put my
finger suddenly on the weak point in _her_ story. Down dropped
her pathetic pocket-handkerchief from her beautiful blue eyes,
and out came the genuine woman with the neat little lie that
exactly suited the circumstances! I felt twenty years younger,
Mr. Armadale, on the spot. I declare I thought I was in Newgate
again, with my note-book in my hand, taking my instructions for
the defense!"
"The next thing you'll say, Mr. Pedgift," cried Allan, angrily,
"is that Miss Gwilt has been in prison!"
Pedgift Senior calmly rapped his snuff-box, and had his answer
ready at a moment's notice.
"She may have richly deserved to see the inside of a prison,
Mr. Armadale; but, in the age we live in, that is one excellent
reason for her never having been near any place of the kind.
A prison, in the present tender state of public feeling, for a
charming woman like Miss Gwilt! My dear sir, if she had attempted
to murder you or me, and if an inhuman judge and jury had decided
on sending her to a prison, the first object of modern society
would be to prevent her going into it; and, if that couldn't be
done, the next object would be to let her out again as soon as
possible. Read your newspaper, Mr. Armadale, and you'll find we
live in piping times for the black sheep of the community--if
they are only black enough. I insist on asserting, sir, that
we have got one of the blackest of the lot to deal with in this
case. I insist on asserting that you have had the rare luck,
in these unfortunate inquiries, to pitch on a woman who happens
to be a fit object for inquiry, in the interests of the public
protection. Differ with me as strongly as you please, but don't
make up your mind finally about Miss Gwilt until events have put
those two opposite opinions of ours to the test that I have
proposed. A fairer test there can't be. I agree with you that no
lady worthy of the name could attempt to force her way in here,
after receiving your letter. But I deny that Miss Gwilt is worthy
of the name; and I say she will try to force her way in here in
spite of you."
"And I say she won't!" retorted Allan, firmly.
Pedgift Senior leaned back in his chair and smiled. There was
a momentary silence, and in that silence the door-bell rang.
The lawyer and the client both looked expectantly in the
direction of the hall.
"No," cried Allan, more angrily than ever.
"Yes!" cried Pedgift Senior, contradicting him with the utmost
politeness.
They waited the event. The opening of the house door was audible,
but the room was too far from it for the sound of voices to reach
the ear as well. After a long interval of expectation, the
closing of the door was heard at last. Allan rose impetuously
and rang the bell. Mr. Pedgift the elder sat sublimely calm,
and enjoyed, with a gentle zest, the largest pinch of snuff
he had taken yet.
"Anybody for me?" asked Allan, when the servant came in.
The man looked at Pedgift Senior, with an expression of
unutterable reverence, and answered, "Miss Gwilt."
"I don't want to crow over you, sir," said Mr. Pedgift the elder,
when the servant had withdrawn. "But what do you think of Miss
Gwilt _now_?"
Allan shook his head in silent discouragement and distress.
"Time is of some importance, Mr. Armadale. After what has just
happened, do you still object to taking the course I have had
the honor of suggesting to you?"
"I can't, Mr. Pedgift," said Allan. "I can't be the means of
disgracing her in the neighborhood. I would rather be disgraced
myself--as I am."
"Let me put it in another way, sir. Excuse my persisting. You
have been very kind to me and my family; and I have a personal
interest, as well as a professional interest, in you. If you
can't prevail on yourself to show this woman's character in its
true light, will you take common precautions to prevent her doing
any more harm? Will you consent to having her privately watched
as long as she remains in this neighborhood?"
For the second time Allan shook his head.
"Is that your final resolution, sir?"
"It is, Mr. Pedgift; but I am much obliged to you for your
advice, all the same."
Pedgift Senior rose in a state of gentle resignation, and took up
his hat "Good-evening, sir," he said, and made sorrowfully for
the door. Allan rose on his side, innocently supposing that
the interview was at an end. Persons better acquainted with the
diplomatic habits of his legal adviser would have recommended him
to keep his seat. The time was ripe for "Pedgift's postscript,"
and the lawyer's indicative snuff-box was at that moment in one
of his hands, as he opened the door with the other.
"Good-evening," said Allan.
Pedgift Senior opened the door, stopped, considered, closed
the door again, came back mysteriously with his pinch of snuff
in suspense between his box and his nose, and repeating his
invariable formula, "By-the-by, there's a point occurs to me,"
quietly resumed possession of his empty chair
Allan, wondering, took the seat, in his turn, which he had just
left. Lawyer and client looked at each other once more, and the
inexhaustible interview began again.