Louis Tracy

“ Charles Jordison Brooke, was so attentive, and that an angry-looking young man and a perturbed elderly lady, who arrived at Victoria in a taxi-cab not many minutes after “Meg” and her escort had entered Buckingham Palace-road, failed to find a young person in a blue coat and skirt, and wearing a sweet pea hat, though they searched the station like detectives, and literally ran through the long corridors of the Tate Gallery. ”

“ But—I don’t often use a telephone—no matter— can you get off this, afternoon?”
“Delighted! Where are we going?” Mr. Brooke winked solemnly at the clock because of the success of his ruse in extracting the lady’s name, in part, at any rate.
“You don’t mean to say you have forgotten?”
“My dear Meg, consider how busy I have been all the morning!”
“You surprise me! What microbe of industry has wrought such a change?”
The pleasant raillery of the question suggested many possibilities. Brooke caught at the likeliest one.
“A fellow must make a show sometimes,” he said. ”

“ The fellow hasn’t a ghost of a chance, here’s a credible witness who saw him coming out of Lady Porthcawl’s room, and the theft was discovered five minutes later. And look at his record! Three times hard labour—once penal servitude! Verdict, ‘guilty’; sentence, ‘seven penal and three supervision’; for the defence, ‘Mr. Charles Jordison Brooke.’ Nice thing to go to Newcastle for in the dog days! The only thing that puzzles me is how any sane person could be induced to put up twenty guineas for my valuable services. ”

“ He was regarded telephonically with suspicion, amusement, annoyance, even contempt, but none would admit the least intent to escort a young lady named Meg to the Tate Gallery that day. By the time he had made an end it was nearly 2 o’clock.
By no means pleased with himself—for the idle conceit of a midsummer’s day promised to distress a charming girl and at least one other person named Charles Brooke—the barrister resolved to deal with an awkward incident in the only possible, way. If anyone suffered, it must be himself, no matter what the outcome ”

“ There is no wall more impenetrable than the dead negation of a sulky telephone. There followed a furious demand by Brooke for the clerk in charge of the local exchange, and, after more delay, a courteous official explanation was forthcoming that a young lady, unknown, had asked for and obtained a number which was registered in the book at the call office as his, Brooke’s—889, Temple. ”

“ While the opposing counsel was taking the witness through her “proof,” Brooke rose, bent over the rail of the dock, and beckoned to the prisoner. His big, brilliant eyes pierced the very soul of the degenerate. ”

“ She will be pleased.”
“I’d prefer you to discuss this afternoon’s arrangements,” he said.
“Well, I suppose it is too far for you to call here?”
“Such a waste of a lovely day. Let us bask in the sunshine!”
He was acutely aware of the unseen speaker’s momentary bewilderment; then she explained the pause.
“I cannot understand your complete forgetfulness,” she said. “Anyhow, we can leave that till we meet. Where do you suggest? I don’t know London very well.” ”

“ We recommend a determined effort to convince the jury that the whole body of evidence is insufficient.”
“Do you?” snapped Brooke. “I can see old Mowlem adjusting his gold eyeglasses carefully before he wrote those words of wisdom with his best quill pen. Seven plus three is ten for the prisoner; multiplied by two, Mowlem and Wrench, the product is twenty for me.”
Charles Jordison Brooke was known to a limited section of the public as a rising young barrister, to a few solicitors as a smart youngster, and to Mr. Jecks, the eminent K.C., as a reliable junior. ”

“ He was clever, ambitious, and keen in his profession, and the solitary brief that demanded his presence at the North-Eastern Assizes at Newcastle four days later provided just one of those negative cases which he disliked.
Nevertheless, youthful members of the Inns of Court cannot afford to pick and choose, when a notable firm of solicitors seeks their advocacy, and the gleam of sentiment aroused by the notion of a mother, or wife, or some woman even more to be pitied, pawning her belongings to defend a rascal, yielded to the agreeable reflection that Mowlem and Wrench had applied to Mr. ”