“We 're off at cock-crow!” cried Kiel. “Tell him, however, from me that I am delighted with his _débuts_ and that all the best wishes of my friends and myself are with him.” And so they parted. Repton, however, did not retire to bed at once; his mind was still intent upon the subject which had engaged him during the day, and as he walked to and fro in his room, he still dwelt upon it. Scanlan's instructions had led him to believe that the Martins were in this case to have been “put upon their title;” and the formidable array of counsel employed by Magennis seemed to favor the impression. Now it was true that a trifling informality in the service of the writ had quashed the proceedings for the present; but the question remained, “Was the great struggle only reserved for a future day?” It was clear that a man embarrassed as was Magennis could never have retained that strong bar of eminent lawyers. From what fund, then, came these resources? Was there a combination at work? And if so, to what end, and with what object? The crafty old lawyer pondered long and patiently over these things. His feelings might not inaptly be compared to those of a commandant of a garrison, who sees his stronghold menaced by an enemy he had never suspected. Confident as he is in the resources of his position, he yet cannot resist the impression that the very threat of attack has been prompted by some weakness of which he is unaware. “To put us on our title,” said he, “implies a great war. Let us try and find out who and what are they who presume to declare it!” CHAPTER XV. A FIRST BRIEF The reader has been already told that Joe Nelligan had achieved a great success in his first case. A disputed point of law had been raised, in itself insignificant, but involving in its train a vast variety of momentous interests. Repton, with an ingenuity all his own, had contrived to draw the discussion beyond its original limits, that he might entangle and embarrass the ambitious junior who had dared to confute him. Nelligan accepted the challenge at once, and after a stormy discussion of some hours came out the victor. For a while his timid manner, and an overpowering sense of the great odds against him, seemed to weigh oppressively on him. The very successes he had won elsewhere were really so many disparagements to him now, giving promise, as it were, of his ability. But, despite all these disadvantages, he entered the lists manfully and courageously. What a many-sided virtue is this same courage, and how prone is the world to award its praises unequally for it! We are enthusiastic for the gallant soldier the earliest in the breach, or the glorious sailor who first jumps upon the enemy's quarter-deck, and yet we never dream of investing with heroism him who dares to combat with the most powerful intellects of debate, or enters the field of argument against minds stored with vast resources of knowledge, and practised in all the subtleties of disputation.