"And he said that in his deposition, Mister Sadler?" Sir Hugo chortled, rocking back and forth with excitement on his chair.
"Indeed he did, Sir Hugo, sir," Sadler exulted. "My employer believes that Pruett's presence at any trial, or delaying evidentiary hearing, is so important to Captain Lewrie's defence that he wrote to Mister Peel, along with a sum of money, to see to it that Pruett must take passage to England, and be lodged in London until such time that he testify in person, exposing how one-sidedly was the trial conducted, how scanty were his chances to present a credible defence, and what a travesty was the whole affair, sirs!"
"Right, then!" Burgess erupted. "Huzzah! A glass with you, Mister Sadler… and a glass with you, next, Alan old son!"
"Toast… toast!" Sir Hugo insisted. "Top up your glasses, so we may make a double toast! To the poor Mister Pruett of Jamacia, and the sagacious Mister Andrew MacDougall, Esquire!"
He's t'have room, board and spirits on my purse? Lewrie thought, utterly appalled at how eager other people were to spend his money, even on his own behalf. Recalling how lavishly MacDougall and Sadler had already regaled themselves at his expense, he didn't know whether to laugh with relief, or weep in fear of future poverty.
After that gala toast, though, Mr. Sadler shyly called for their attention for a bit longer, for he had more to relate.
"Mister MacDougall, sirs, has already ascertained who it will be who prosecutes the Beaumans' case, as well," Sadler said in sober takings. "Evidently, their Mister Cotton on Jamaica had written their London solicitor and agent before taking ship, whom they authorised to engage a barrister upon his own judgement and recommendation, to speed things along whilst they made their sailing arrangements."
"Who is the bastard?" Sir Hugo snarled.
"Sir George Norman, K.C., sirs," Sadler informed them. "He is also a member of Grey's Inn, as is Mister MacDougall. Very well known at the bar. And, to Mister MacDougall, too, so…"
"Ain't that… illegal, or something?" Sir Hugo asked, snorting in disbelief. "Mean t'say…!"
"Not at all, Sir Hugo… gentlemen!" Sadler quickly responded with a prim dislike for the honourable conduct of members of the bar to be questioned. "One might as well question the validity of two former students of Cambridge opposing each other, of two congregants of the same church parish, or-"
"It happens all the time, Sir Hugo," Twigg, sitting and listening silently for the most part, assured the nettled old fellow, giving him a calming pat on the arm. "One must remember that both MacDougall and this Norman fellow gain their livelihood from their successes for their clients, and their best interests. Ain't that so, Sadler?"
"Indeed, Mister Twigg."
"Their livelihoods, and their reputes, rather," Twigg went on, leaning back in the padded armchair he had appropriated as if musing. "Lose a prominent case, and one's repute is diminished. As is their ability to attract clients, or stick in the mind of solicitors, who engage them."
"Oh," Burgess Chiswick commented, seeing the light. "I should think their pride suffers, too. How important and brilliant others in their line o' work think 'em… how shameful a loss would be to their souls?"
"Exactly so, Mister Chiswick," Sadler said, taking charge of the conversation once more. "A man recognised as King's Counsel, or barrister, might be engaged to prosecute one time, defend another… so, for all those reasons which you and Mister Twigg have laid out, it would be impossible, and a grave offence 'gainst the dignity of law, and their personal sacred honour, to collude. Sir George Norman 'ate his terms' the requisite three years at Grey's Inn, and was called to the bar three years before my employer applied, and Mister MacDougall was still a special pleader and writer when Sir George was made King's Counsel. They are not colleagues, in the familiar sense, gentlemen."
"Don't sup t'gether?" a dubious Sir Hugo asked. "Shoot, fish, go on country retreats with each other?"
"Sir George and Mister MacDougall do not socialise at all, Sir Hugo," Sadler could say with confidence, and a certain sly humour. "I do not think that such would be possible, in point of fact, for, ah… well, Sir George holds rather low opinion of Scots, or anyone who has risen from beneath his own class, in general. Sir George's father is Viscount Selby, his elder brother a Baron, and Sir George, I should have said, is Sir George Norman, Baronet… long before he attained the honourific of King's Counsel, and became a Bencher in Grey's Inn."
"Aha!" Twigg said, with a derisive bark. "What our man here, Captain Lewrie, might nautically term a 'top-lofty,' is he?"
"The 'top-loftiest,' Mister Twigg," Sadler said, snickering a trifle.
"Reckoned a capable man?" Lewrie had to ask, so he could know his odds, and his opponent.
"At some things, Captain Lewrie," Sadler replied, tapping his nose. "Sir George did a few terms at Oxford, to no special honours earned… no Blues won, d'ye see. Mister MacDougall heard a lot of him during his early years at Grey's Inn… for Sir George dined in diligently, and was reputed to toady diligently with the Benchers of the time, but… without much in the way of proper legal study. Sir George's family is close friends and cater-cousins to a great many at the law, though, and… one might charitably say that he was called to the bar more on the strength of his connexions than his abilities.
"Do not mistake my meaning, gentlemen… Captain Lewrie," Mr. Sadler gravely cautioned. "Sir George Norman is not a fool, nor easy to outwit in court. He is not an opponent to dismiss, or underestimate… though…," he said, looking as if he wished he could chew on a thumbnail in such company.
"Though what}" Burgess prompted, impatient and intrigued.
"Well, Sir George has done rather a lot of cases in the Court of Common Pleas, for rather well-connected clients from his own social set, and the peerage. One case in Chancery Court, a most convoluted and intricate affair of inheritances, multiple wills, the upkeep for distraught and penniless heirs during its slow procession through the courts, has been so lucrative, and protracted, that no one doubts it will outlast Sir George's lifetime, and keep him independently wealthy apart from what his own family might settle upon him!"
"He hasn't tried cases in King's Bench, then?" Twigg posed with a frown on his face, his spidery long fingers flexing on his glass.
"Oh, many, sir!" Sadler countered. "For those accused who may meet his honorarium, or who have family and friends who may have the wherewithal to support their kinsman's, or friend's, cause. Not that often on the defence, mind you, gentlemen. Mister MacDougall says he suspects that placing one's reputation at risk, should he lose, might not suit Sir George's cautious nature. No, he has been engaged most often to prosecute, and has an estimable record of success at it. As Mister MacDougall says, though, most of those were open-and-shut cases with but little doubt of the accused's guilt, nor the outcome of the proceedings."
"I see," Twigg said slowly, drawing out the phrase, and with a sly grin spreading on his skeletal face, thin lips drawn upward. "And, after seeing Captain Lewrie's name featured so prominently in the newspapers, perhaps even in some of those Abolitionist Society tracts, and such, he scented a chance to shine in a most prestigious case, certain that the fame resulting from the successful prosecution of a well-known figure would polish his repute to a high gloss, aha!"
"And, if he read the transcript, and took the Beaumans' lies as Gospel Truth… !" Lewrie exclaimed, snatching at sudden hope, after a dismal few hours.
"… not realising how despicably and shamefully the Beaumans cheated, and colluded…!" Burgess, ever a staunch ally, cried in like glee. "Why, it must've looked as easy as a stroll in Hyde Park! And, thousands of pounds in his bank account for two hours' work, to boot!"