to his cab, while Mr. Round absolutely waited upon him till he saw him seated within the vehicle.
'So Mat is right after all,' said the old attorney to himself as he stood alone with his back to his own fire, thursting his hands into his trousers-pockets. 'So Mat is right after all!' The meaning of this exclamation will be plain to my readers. Mat had declared to his father his conviction that Lady Mason had forged the codicil in question, and the father was now also convinced that she had done so. 'Unfortunate woman!' he said; 'poor, wretched woman!' And then he began to calculate what might yet be her chances of escape. On the whole he thought that she would escape. 'Twenty years of possession,' he said to himself; 'and so excellent a character!' But, nevertheless, he repeated to himself over and over again that she was a wretched, miserable woman.
We may say that all the persons most concerned were convinced, or nearly convinced, of Lady Mason's guilt. Among her own friends Mr. Furnival had no doubt of it, and Mr. Chaffanbrass and Mr. Aram but very little; whereas Sir Peregrine and Mrs. Orme of course had none. On the other side Mr. Mason and Mr. Dockwrath were both fully sure of the truth, and the two Rounds, father and son, were quite of the same mind. And yet, except with Dockwrath and Sir Peregrine, the most honest and the most dishonest of the lot, the opinion was that she would escape. These were five lawyers concerned, not one of whom gave to the course of justice credit that it would ascertain the truth, and not one of whom wished that the truth should be ascertained. Surely had they been honest-minded in their profession they would all have so wished;—have so wished, or else have abstained from all professional intercourse in the matter. I cannot understand how any gentleman can be willing to use his intellect for the propagation of untruth, and to be paid for so using it. As to Mr. Chaffanbrass and Mr. Solomon Aram,—to them the escape of a criminal under their auspices would of course be a matter of triumph. To such work for many years had they applied their sharp intellects and legal knowledge. But of Mr. Furnival;—what shall we say of him?
Sir Peregrine went home very sad at heart, and crept silently back into his own library. In the evening, when he was alone with Mrs. Orme, he spoke one word to her. 'Edith,' he said, 'I have seen Mr. Round. We can do nothing for her there.'
'I feared not,' said she.
'No; we can do nothing for her there.'
After that Sir Peregrine took no step in the matter. What step could he take? But he sat over his fire in his library, day after day, thinking over it all, and waiting till those terrible assizes should have come.
