as a matter of
fact, he had only that moment ascertained his name from Mr. Fiddlestick,
who was himself obliged to refer to Bean before he could be sure of
it--"look here, Short: don't you think that we can settle this business?
You've got a strongish case; but there are some ugly things against you,
as no doubt you know."

"I don't quite admit that," said James.

"Of course--of course," said Mr. Attorney; "but still, in my judgment, if
you will not be offended at my expressing it, you are not quite on firm
ground. Supposing, for instance, your young lady is not allowed to give
evidence?"

"I think," said a stout gentleman behind who wore upon his countenance
the very sweetest and most infantile smile that Eustace had ever seen,
breaking in rather hastily, as though he was afraid that his learned
leader was showing too much of his hand, "I think that the case is one
that, looked at from either point of view, will bear settlement better
than fighting--eh, Fiddlestick? But then, I'm a man of peace," and again
he smiled most seductively at James.

"What are your terms?" asked James.

The eminent counsel on the front bench turned round and stuck their wigs
together like a lot of white-headed crows over a bone, and the slightly
less eminent but still highly distinguished juniors on the second bench
craned forward to listen.

"They are going to settle it," Eustace heard the barrister who was
reporting for the _Times_ say to his long assistant.

"They always do settle every case of public interest," grunted the long
man in answer; "we shan't see Miss Smithers' shoulders now. Well, I shall
get an introduction to her, and ask her to show them to me. I take a
great interest in tattooing."

Meanwhile, Fiddlestick, Q.C., had been writing something on a strip of
paper and handed to his leader, the Attorney-General (who, Mr. James
Short saw with respectful admiration, had 500 guineas marked upon his
brief). He nodded carelessly, and passed it on to his junior, who gave it
in turn to the Solicitor-General and Playford, Q.C. When it had gone the
rounds, Mr. News took it and showed it to his two privileged clients,
Messrs. Addison and Roscoe. Addison was a choleric-looking, fat-faced
man. Roscoe was sallow, and had a thin, straggly black beard. When they
looked at it, Addison groaned fiercely as a wounded bull, and Roscoe
sighed, and that sigh and groan told Augusta--who, womanlike, had all her
wits about her, and was watching