know any solicitors; we did happen to know of you, and time presses.'
'May I enquire, gentlemen,' asked Gideon, 'to whom it was I am indebted for a recommendation?'
'You may enquire,' returned the lawyer, with a foolish laugh; 'but I was invited not to tell you—till the thing was done.'
'My uncle, no doubt,' was the barrister's conclusion.
'My name is John Dickson,' continued Michael; 'a pretty well-known name in Ballarat; and my friend here is Mr. Ezra Thomas, of the United States of America, a wealthy manufacturer of india-rubber overshoes.'
'Stop one moment till I make a note of that,' said Gideon; anyone might have supposed he was an old practitioner.
'Perhaps you wouldn't mind my smoking a cigar?' asked Michael. He had pulled himself together for the entrance; now again there began to settle on his mind clouds of irresponsible humour and incipient slumber; and he hoped (as so many have hoped in the like case) that a cigar would clear him.
'Oh, certainly,' cried Gideon blandly. 'Try one of mine; I can confidently recommend them.' And he handed the box to his client.
