had been hired. He was to undertake the
whole legal management of the affair. He must settle what attorney
should have the matter in hand, and instruct that attorney how to
reinstruct him, and how to reinstruct those other barristers who must
necessarily be employed on the defence, in a case of such magnitude.
He did not yet know under what form the attack would be made; but he
was nearly certain that it would be done in the shape of a criminal
charge. He hoped that it might take the direct form of an accusation
of forgery. The stronger and more venomous the charge made, the
stronger also would be public opinion in favour of the accused,
and the greater the chance of an acquittal. But if she were to be
found guilty on any charge, it would matter little on what. Any
such verdict of guilty would be utter ruin and obliteration of her
existence.

He must consult with some one, and at last he made up his mind to go
to his very old friend, Mr. Chaffanbrass. Mr. Chaffanbrass was safe,
and he might speak out his mind to him without fear of damaging the
cause. Not that he could bring himself to speak out his real mind,
even to Mr. Chaffanbrass. He would so speak that Mr. Chaffanbrass
should clearly understand him; but still, not even to his ears, would
he say that he really believed Lady Mason to have been guilty. How
would it be possible that he should feign before a jury his assured,
nay, his indignant conviction of his client's innocence, if he had
ever whispered to any one his conviction of her guilt?

On that same afternoon he sent to make an appointment with Mr.
Chaffanbrass, and immediately after breakfast, on the following
morning, had himself taken to that gentleman's chambers. The chambers
of this great guardian of the innocence--or rather not-guiltiness
of the public--were not in any so-named inn, but consisted of two
gloomy, dark, panelled rooms in Ely Place. The course of our story,
however, will not cause us to make many visits to Ely Place, and
any closer description of them may be spared. I have said that Mr.
Chaffanbrass and Mr. Furnival were very old friends. So they were.
They had known each other for more than thirty years, and each knew
the whole history of the other's rise and progress in the profession;
but any results of their friendship at present were but scanty. They
might meet each other in the streets, perhaps, once in the year; and
occasionally--but very seldom--might be brought together on subjec