"Diplomacy," said Calton, to one
young aspirant for legal honours, "is the oil we cast on the troubled
waters of social, professional, and political life; and if you can, by
a little tact, manage mankind, you are pretty certain to get on in this
world."
Calton was a man who practised what he preached. He believed Kilsip to
have that feline nature, which likes to be stroked, to be made much of,
and he paid him these little attentions, knowing full well they would
bear their fruit. He also knew that Kilsip entertained no friendly
feeling for Gorby, that, in fact, he bore him hatred, and he determined
that this feeling which existed between the two men, should serve him
to the end he had in view.
"I suppose," he said, leaning back in his chair, and watching the
wreaths of blue smoke curling from his cigar, "I suppose you know all
the ins and the outs of the hansom cab murder?"
"I should rather think so," said Kilsip, with a curious light in his
queer eyes. "Why, Gorby does nothing but brag about it, and his
smartness in catching the supposed murderer!"
"Aha!" said Calton, leaning forward, and putting his arms on the table.
"Supposed murderer. Eh! Does that mean that he hasn't been convicted by
a jury, or that you think that Fitzgerald is innocent?"
Kilsip stared hard at the lawyer, in a vague kind of way, slowly
rubbing his hands together.
"Well," he said at length, in a deliberate manner, "before I got your
note, I was convinced Gorby had got hold of the right man, but when I
heard that you wanted to see me, and knowing you are defending the
prisoner, I guessed that you must have found something in his favour
which you wanted me to look after.
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