In an instant the sinister expression had relaxed. “Yes,” with a half-apologetic smile. “I hate prigs and, above all, the superior person, with his impudence in assuming a rank in the human category to which he is not in the least entitled. Ah, well, you shall smash him up for me one of these days, Geof. I’m going to make a real, a brilliant success of you. When you are perfect in your guard, I am going to teach you how to hit still harder.” “It is very good of you.” “Nonsense! If you knew how much of selfishness there is in my tuition you would not give me much credit. I shouldn’t expect you to let me use you as a mask for my battery were it not that the benefits of my marksmanship go to you. There, that’s enough of that. Now, about these briefs. I have looked through them.” “They are all simple enough, eh?” “Absolutely. In Slater _v._ Sudbury Tramway, though, I should make a strong point of the contributory negligence and, as a second shot, cross-examine closely as to the father’s actual income and financial position and prospects. I see they claim six thousand. A glorious British jury is pretty sure to find against you, and your best point will be to suggest a try-on and go for mitigation. There you are.” He gave Herriard the parcel of briefs with an encouraging smile and nod of confidence. “Now you had better turn in,” he said, “or you won’t be fit for Court in the morning. Who tries the tramway case?” “Gartree.” “That old fool? He will probably misdirect, and give you a second chance. Good-night, my dear boy. So glad you scored to-night.” They shook hands affectionately, and in another minute Herriard, in spite of a long, exciting day, was walking, with the brisk step of that elation which knows no fatigue, towards his rooms in Mount Street. CHAPTER II THE HISTORY OF A COMPACT