'I want to know--for his advantage--oh! yes--yes--for his own advantage.' 'Yes.' The barrister retreated to his paper. 'Oh, yes,' he added. 'Quite so.' 'For his great personal advantage,' Checkley repeated.--'Robert, I think the gentleman would take a tumbler, if you will bring it--hot, Robert--strong--with lemon and sugar--a large rummer, Robert.' The ancient barrister's head behind the paper was observed to tremble. Robert returned with his rummer, the glass spoon tinkling an invitation. Dinner had been but a sorry affair that day--a stop-gap--insufficient in bulk; the tempted man felt a yearning that could not be resisted. He stretched out his hand and took the glass and tasted it. Then turning to Checkley: 'You have purchased my speech, sir. You were asking me about Mr. Edmund Gray. What do you wish to know?' 'Everything--his business--his private life--anything.' 'As for his business, he has none; he is a gentleman living on his means--like myself; but his means are larger than my own: he has a residence elsewhere--I don't know where; he uses his Chambers but little: he has a collection of books there, and he keeps them for purposes of study.' 'Does he call there every day?' 'No. Only at irregular times. Sometimes not for many weeks together.' 'Has he got any friends?' 'I should say that he has no friends at all--at least none that come to the Inn. I have never heard or seen anyone in his room. A quiet man. No slammer. An excellent man to have on the staircase. No trampler; doesn't tramp up and down like an elephant. Isn't brought home drunk.' 'What does he look like?' 'He is a man advanced in years--perhaps seventy--a good-looking man--very cheerful countenance: tall and well set up still--wears a long frock coat. And that I believe is all I know about him.' 'That's all you've got to tell me, is it?' 'That is all, Mr. Checkley. Except that he has written a very remarkable letter to the _Times_ of this morning.' 'Well, sir, if that is all, it isn't much for your rum-and-water, let me tell you.' The barrister rose and poured the half-glass that remained into the cinders. 'Then let me drink no more than my information was worth,' he said; and at the sight of so much magnanimity the broad earth trembled and Mr. Checkley sat aghast. The ex-statesman cleared his throat and began again. 'After the third interruption, gentlemen, I may hope for a hearing. While, therefore, on the one hand----' CHAPTER XVI THE VOICE OF DUTY