"Sir!"
"If that knock is for me, I'm out you know."
"Of course, sir!"
"And Walker!" cried Polter.
"Sir!"
"If it's for me, I'm not at home!"
Polter always rejoiced if he could manage to make the conversation partake of a Maddisonian Mortonic character.
Mr. Walker opened the door. "Mr. Penditton's a-breakfasting with the Master of the Rolls, if it's him you want; and if it isn't, Mr. Polter's with the Attorney-General."
"You don't say so!" remarked the visitor; "then you'll give this to Mr. Penditton, as soon as the Master can make up his mind to part with him."
And so saying, he handed to Walker a lovely parcel of brief paper, tied up neatly with a piece of red tape, and minuted—
"Central Criminal Court, May Sessions, 1860.—The Queen on the prosecution of Ann Black v. Elizabeth Briggs. Brief for the prisoner. Mr. Penditton, one guinea.—Poddle and Shaddery, Brompton Square."
So it had come at last! Only an Old Bailey brief, it is true; but still a brief. We scarcely knew what to make of it. Polter looked at me, and I looked at Polter, and then we both looked at the brief.
It turned out to be a charge against Elizabeth Briggs, widow, of picking pockets in an omnibus. It appeared from my "instructions," that my client was an elderly lady, and religious. On the 2nd April then last she
