There was nothing in this of the frank
responsiveness with which your ordinary mortal lends his ear. The brain
behind the dome was, one might be sure, adding, combining, comparing,
and drawing its own conclusions. Why should lawyers, he wondered, treat
those who came to them like children, advancing only in so far as it
suited them out of the darkness where they housed among strangely worded
paragraphs and obscure formulas?--But these musings were cut short.
Having fondled his chin for a further moment, Ocock looked up and put a
question. And, while he could not but admire the lawyer's acumen, this
did not lessen Mahony's discomfort. All unguided, it went straight for
what he believed to be the one weak spot in his armour. It related to
the drayman. Contrary to custom Mahony had, on this occasion, himself
recommended the driver. And, as he admitted it, his ears rang again with
the plaints of his stranded fellow-countryman, a wheedler from the South
Country, off whose tongue the familiar brogue had dripped like honey.
His recommendation, he explained, had been made out of charity; he had
not forced the agent to engage the man; and it would surely be a gross
injustice if he alone were to be held responsible.
To his relief Ocock did not seem to attach importance to the fact, but
went on to ask whether any written agreement had existed between the
parties. "No writing? H'm! So . . . so!" To read his thoughts was an
impossibility; but as he proceeded with his catechism it was easy to see
how his interest in the case grew.
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