A fruitless errand: James Magnus, after his long and weary pilgrimage, was resting peacefully where there is no dreaming of revenge.

Of a broken heart! So it was said, for the secret was well kept. There are men who dare to make the rush headlong from this world.

PART THREE, CHAPTER ONE.

PART 3--THE BARRISTER'S DAY.

IN CHAMBERS.

"With a rum-tum, tum-tum, tiddy-iddy tum, tiddy-rum-tum, tiddy-iddy bang!"

This was sung in a low-pitched, not unmusical voice, by a stunted, thickly-set lad of seventeen or eighteen, being his version of the well-known "March of the British Grenadiers"; and as he puffed forth the air in imitation of a wind instrument, the musical youth paraded the well-furnished office he occupied, with an enormous ebony ruler over his shoulder, held sword-fashion, and the stove poker in his left hand carried like a scabbard.

He was so far on the alert that he kept one eye upon a green baize-covered inner door, evidently leading into a private room, but not sufficiently watchful to see that another door had been opened, for as he got through a second strain of the march he called, softly, in imitation of a commanding officer, "Halt!--right about face. Band to the front!" Then his jaw dropped, and he made a bound to his desk.

The reason of this change was that a stern, dry-looking, well-dressed man stood there, with an umbrella in one hand, a blue bag in the other, and he did not smile, but showed his teeth slightly, as he saw the lad's confusion.

"Drilling, eh?" he said, shutting the door close behind him. "Going to join the army?"

"No, sir," said the boy, smartly.

"Of course not," said the visitor. "Much too short."

"Please, sir, I can't help that," said the boy, whose face was now scarlet; "and I shall grow."

"Only wiser, boy," said the visitor, "not taller. Wiser; and then you won't go and be shot at for a few pennies a day. Mr Ross in?"

"Don't know, sir. I'll see," said the boy.

"Yes, you do know," snarled the visitor; "and he is in, or else you wouldn't have gone about on tiptoe. Take in my card."

"Mr Swift, Cripple and Swift," read the boy.

"Yes, and be quick. Time's money, boy."

"Yes, sir. Take a chair, sir," said the lad, whose martial ardour had cooled into business; and he opened the baize door, let it close behind him, and knocked at the panel of an inner door, the knock sounding m.u.f.fled and distant to the visitor.

"Come in!"

The boy entered a handsomely-furnished room, in the middle of whose Turkey carpet was a large, well-drawered writing-table, covered with papers tied up in red and green tape. On one side was a handsome, polished wardrobe, half open, displaying, hanging from pegs, a couple of barrister's gowns, looking in the dim interior like a couple of old-fashioned clergymen hung up to dry, or for some other reason.

In another polished-wood cupboard, with gla.s.s doors partly covered with blinds, were apparently a couple of stuffed barristers in their wigs, gazing mournfully through the gla.s.s at the opening door of the office, till a second inspection showed them to be wig-blocks, with their legal horsehair burdens grey and stiff.

Cases full of thick volumes, a couple of busts of famous judges in their wigs, and here and there an almanack, a pale blue sheet of paper, printed with the dates of various judges' circuits, and, lastly, a tall oaken case full of pigeon-holes stuffed to overflowing with legal papers, formed the surroundings of him who said "Come in."

The speaker was in a dressing-gown and slippers, seated at the writing-table, with his head resting upon his hands, evidently studying intently the contents of certain sheets of paper, closely written in a clear round hand, but with a broad margin, whereon from time to time the reader made notes, by means of a gold pencil-case.

His face was bent so low that nothing but the broad forehead was visible when he set one hand at liberty to write; but it could be seen that this broad, open brow was lined by study, and the dark hair was cut off closely to the reader's head.

He did not look up when the boy entered, but said, in a quick, decided voice--

"Well, d.i.c.k?"

"Gentleman to see you, sir," said the boy; and he placed a card upon the writing-table, at which card the reader glanced, but without changing his position.

"H'm, Mr Swift," he said. "Show him in."

The visitor needed scarcely any showing, for as the boy went back he was ready to step in at once, and his stern, harsh, rather unpleasant face seemed to wear a satisfied air as he took all in at a glance.

"Good morning, Mr Ross," he said, as the reader rose and showed the face of Luke Ross, twelve years older, and pale and thin, but with his dark eyes, rather deeply set, now full of vigorous intelligence, as he seemed to look his visitor through and through, and motioned him to a seat with a wave of a thin, delicate white hand, upon which shone a heavy unornamented signet ring.

"I think you know our name, Mr Ross," said the visitor, with an air of self-satisfaction, as he laid his blue bag across his knees.

"Perfectly well, Mr Swift," said Ross, quietly. "I was against you in that shipping case last week."

"Yes, sir, you were," said the visitor, with a smile that looked like a snarl; "and you beat us, sir--beat Philliman--and that's why I have come."

"Mr Philliman worked very hard for your client, Mr Swift," said Luke, quietly. "I presume that you bear no malice?" he added, with a smile.

"Malice, sir--malice, Mr Ross? Ha, ha, ha! That's very good, sir-- uncommonly good. I'll tell Cripple as soon as I return."

"I know you'll excuse me, Mr Swift," said the young barrister, glancing at his watch, "if I tell you that my time is very much occupied."

"Of course! To be sure. Yes, my dear sir," said the visitor, busily opening his blue bag. "I know it is. But as it was our first affair with you, I thought I would come on myself instead of sending our clerk.

There, sir," he exclaimed, drawing out a folded packet of papers, tied up with tape, "I have come to show you how we bear malice, sir--our first brief."

As he spoke he handed the papers to Luke Ross with the triumphant smile of one who is conferring a great favour, and then, throwing himself back in his chair, he looked quite disappointed as the barrister just glanced at the endors.e.m.e.nt on the brief, which, among other words, bore certain hieroglyphics in a crabbed hand--"15 _gs_."

"I am sorry to have troubled you to come, Mr Swift," said Luke, in a quiet, grave voice, that was very impressive, and, though low, seemed to fill the room, "but I really must decline."

"Decline!" exclaimed the solicitor, flushing. "Do you know, Mr Ross, that this may mean an enormous number of briefs from our firm, sir--a very fortune?"

Luke bowed.

"You are a young man, Mr Ross--excuse me for saying so, sir--just making a name in your profession. Do I understand you aright, sir? Our firm, sir, stands high."

"Perfectly aright, Mr Swift," replied Luke, in a voice that quite seemed to silence the solicitor, who refreshed himself with a hastily-taken pinch of snuff, and shut the lid of his box with a loud snap. "I know your firm well, sir; but, as you are aware," he added, with a grave smile, "there are limits to even an enterprising barrister's powers, and the profession has been kind enough to give me more than I care to undertake."

"Ah, exactly, sir--of course--yes," said Mr Swift, smiling, and nodding his head. "Exactly so, my dear sir. Will you allow me?"

Luke bowed, and before he had quite realised his visitor's intentions, he had caught up a quill pen, and, rapidly dipping it, altered the fifteen on the back of the brief with a couple of touches into twenty-five, blotted it, and handed it to the young barrister, who raised his hand not to take the brief, but to decline.

"I am sorry, Mr Swift," he said, "but I have sent back a couple of briefs this morning marked precisely as you have endorsed that. I am obliged to decline. Try Mr Norris, or Mr Henrich, on this staircase.

I am sure they will be glad to accept the brief."