By and by Albeson returned with Failes, the bricklayer. Little as he knew of the ancient art of masonry, RoBards was determined that no member of that guild should bring a lawyer to the law. Failes wanted to tear the whole foundation away and start all over. Every art and trade has its religion, and this mason’s was a stubborn belief in doing a job thorough. But he yielded at last to RoBards’ insistence, and charged an extra price for the surrender, and a further sum for beginning at once. As an excuse for his haste RoBards alleged the necessity of his presence in town. When Failes said that he didn’t need any legal advice about layin’ brick and patchin’ stone, RoBards made other pretexts for delay. He dared not leave the house until the broken tomb was sealed again. Days went racking by while the mason’s leisurely procedure, his incessant meditation upon nothing at all, his readiness to stop and chatter, drove RoBards almost out of his wits. But at last the chimney stood erect again, dappled with new brick and crisscrossed with white mortar unweathered. Then and then only, RoBards went back to New York, to tell more lies to Mr. Jessamine, who wondered at his neglect of the necessary conferences with Daniel Webster and Benjamin F. Butler, whom some called General because he had been Attorney General under Jackson and Van Buren, and some called Professor because he was the chief instructor at the City University. RoBards outlined the situation as he saw it and they accepted his reasoning without demur. They would also accept a heavy fee without demur. The case was called in the in the City Hall building on a day of stifling heat. There was something disheartening in the very air, and RoBards gave up hope. The counsel for the city objected to the reargument of the case on the ground that the legal principles involved had already been decided in the city’s favor in the similar Fire Case of Tabelee _et al._ _vs._ the Mayor _et al._ Old Jessamine knew nothing of legal principles and RoBards could hardly keep him from popping up and blustering what he whispered to Webster: “Legal principles! legal bosh! I’ve been poor for ten years now and the city has grown fat and rich, and it has no right to send one of its most honorable merchants down to a pauper’s grave for no fault of his own. Make ’em give me my two hundred thousand dollars or they’ll murder me with their ‘legal principles.’” Mr. Webster nodded his great head and agreed that Mr. Jessamine was right, but the law must take its course. General Butler pleaded with the judges in their own language, and they consented to hear the case, though it was plain that they wanted only to hear Mr. Webster. They wanted to hear that trombone voice peal forth its superhuman music. The words would mean no more than the libretto of the Italian works sung at Palmo’s Opera House. CHAPTER XXVIII