e so, in order that he might not have a moment to consider
the reply which he would send. Mr Apjohn had calculated, traitor that
he was to the cause of his client,--so thought Cousin Henry,--that
the man's presence would rob him of his presence of mind so as to
prevent him from sending a refusal.

"I don't see why I should go into Carmarthen at all," he said.

"Oh, sir, it's quite essential,--altogether essential in a case such
as this. You are bound to prosecute, and of course you must give your
instructions. If Mr Apjohn were to bring everything out here for the
purpose, the expense would be tremendous. In going there, it will
only be the fly, and it will all be done in five minutes."

"Who will be there?" asked Cousin Henry after a pause.

"I shall be there," answered the clerk, not unnaturally putting
himself first, "and Mr Apjohn, and perhaps one of the lads."

"There won't be any--barrister?" asked Cousin Henry, showing the
extent of his fear by his voice and his countenance.

"Oh, dear, no; they won't be here till the assizes. A barrister never
sees his own client. You'll go in as a witness, and will have nothing
to do with the barristers till you're put up face to face before them
in the witness-box. Mr Balsam is a very mild gentleman."

"He is employed by me?"

"Oh, yes; he's on our side. His own side never matters much to a
witness. It's when the other side tackles you!"

"Who is the other side?" asked Cousin Henry.

"Haven't you heard?" The voice in which this was said struck terror
to the poor wretch's soul. There was awe in it and pity, and
something almost of advice,--as though the voice were warning him to
prepare against the evil which was threatening him. "They have got Mr
Cheekey!" Here the voice became even more awful. "I knew they would
when I first heard what the case was to be. They've got Mr Cheekey.
They don't care much about money when they're going it like that.
There are many of them I have known awful enough, but he's the
awfullest."

"He can't eat a fellow," said Cousin Henry, trying to look like a man
with good average courage.

"No; he can't eat a fellow. It isn't that way he does it. I've known
some of 'em who looked as though they were going to eat a man; but he
looks as though he were going to skin you, and leave you bare for the
birds to eat you. He's gentle enough at first, is Mr Cheekey."

"What is it all to me?" asked Cousin Henry.

"Oh, nothing, sir. To a gentleman