The Case and Exceptions Part 13

"A boonch av scuts--no less!"

I sighed hopelessly. It was useless to continue this game.

"Perhaps we've had about enough for to-day, Michael," I said. "Go to Court to-morrow and listen to some witnesses testify. You'll soon get the idea. Then come down to the office in the afternoon and I'll have some questions written out so that you'll know about what you're to be asked. There's nothing like thorough preparation. By the way, do you want to add anything to the affidavit? The facts are all right as far as they go, I suppose?"

Clancy hesitated, wiped his mouth once or twice--smiled out of the window and ended by a general s.h.i.+ft of his bulk. But he did not speak.

"What is it?" I asked encouragingly.

A gesture of disclaimer, almost coy this time, prefaced his reply.

"Shure Oi don't loike ter throuble you, Sorr, an' 'tis as loike as not to be wan av thim deetales you was spakin' av----"

"Never mind, what is it?"

"Well, Sorr, Oi don't seem ter call ter moinde th' lad thot's been afther sayin' an' doin' some av thim things."

The excitement had evidently been too much for Michael's head, but to soothe him I asked,

"What lad, Clancy?"

"Daypont, Sorr."

"Daypont?" I repeated.

Then I picked up the affidavit, and light dawned upon me.

"You don't mean _deponent_, do you?"

"'Tis the same, Sorr--Shure he niver wurrked fer thim in all me toime."

A penholder broke, but I slowly minced a blotter before I trusted myself to explain.

"Deponent means you, Clancy."

"Is ut me?"

"Certainly. For instance----" here I picked up the affidavit.--"This reads '_Deponent did not erect said shelf_', and that means, you did not erect it,----"

"But Begorra, that's just what Oi did, Sorr----"

"What!" I shrieked.

"Oi builded----"

"You built the shelf that fell?"

My voice was desperately calm but the pencil in my hands was playing a tattoo on the desk.

"Shure, Oi did, Sorr."

"Then why in the name of common sense, man, didn't you say so before?" I burst out.

"Shure Oi didn't loike ter throuble yiz, an' you readin' it out so beautiful-loike. An' faith, Oi thought 'twas some scut av a Daypont you wuz spakin' av as not doin'----"

Clancy looked at me and my face must have been awesome, for he stopped with mouth agape.

"_Nor was the merchandise upon said shelf placed there by deponent?_" I read inquiringly.

"'Twas Oi that put ut there av a Friday marnin,' Sorr, an'----"

"_Deponent further avers_," I continued with fearful calm, "_that he never knew the said shelf was unsafe?_"

"Shure 'twas the day befure Oi was spakin' to th' Super, an' ses Oi to him--O'Toole, ses Oi, the s.h.i.+lf foreninst the dure is broke, ses Oi, but Oi've stooffed a bit of sthick in fur a nail, ses Oi, an' 'twill holt good an' ut don't come down, Oi ses. Moike, ses he----"

"For Heaven's sake man, stop! You must have known all this two years ago--why didn't you speak then?"

"'Twas afraid av throublin' yiz with deetales Oi wuz. Do ut make any difference, Sorr?"

"Difference!" I burst out. "Your case is absurd--utterly impossible and absurd! Why, man--you haven't got a leg to stand on!"

Clancy looked at his feet for a moment.

"'Tis me spoine----" he began.

Then he stopped and smiled.

"'Tis for you to know, Sorr," he added, sadly.

I didn't laugh, for I saw tears in Clancy's childlike eyes.

But I discontinued that action, and my affidavits now read with unprofessional clarity.

HIS HONOUR.[A]

[Footnote A: The Judge who hears litigated motions does not now sign ex parte orders. The inside history of this change in the practice may some day be found in a biography. Meanwhile this tale is told "without prejudice."]

Van was out of temper. Van, the calm squelcher of office boys--the recognised saviour of managing clerks--the patient instructor of soph.o.m.oric attorneys--the courteous Guide, Philosopher and Friend for all busy members of the New York Bar--Van, whose serenity and sanity had withstood some thirty years of service as Chambers Clerk, was in ill humour.

Unusual as this was, it might have been explained if the Judge who throws papers on the floor had been upon the Bench. But his Honour was presiding over another Court. Martin, therefore, put it down to the weather, which was hot, and resigned himself to waiting, which was wearisome.

The Court Room was stuffy as usual, and crowded as always. Martin languidly studied the lawyers about him, trying to guess the kind of business each represented. Here he prophesied a struggle for "costs,"

and there a contest for "time." In one face he read the cunning of the technical trickster, in another the earnest belief in a Cause, and idly took to betting with himself on his prognostications.

The low droning of voices had a soothing note, and the hot atmosphere of the room soon set him nodding. A moment more and he was out of the Court, far away from the lawyers--at the east end of Long Island, with the strength and vigour of early Autumn in the air. For some seconds he was dimly conscious of a man standing near him asking an oft-repeated question. Then he woke with a start and saw Allison.