“Of course they are not!” cries Richard.  “You found that out long ago.”

“Mr. C.,” returns Vholes, “I wish to say no more of any third party than is necessary.  I wish to leave my good name unsullied, together with any little property of which I may become possessed through industry and perseverance, to my daughters Emma, Jane, and Caroline.  I also desire to live in amity with my professional brethren.  When Mr. Skimpole did me the honour, sir—­I will not say the very high honour, for I never stoop to flattery—­of bringing us together in this room, I mentioned to you that I could offer no opinion or advice as to your interests while those interests were entrusted to another member of the profession.  And I spoke in such terms as I was bound to speak of Kenge and Carboy’s office, which stands high.  You, sir, thought fit to withdraw your interests from that keeping nevertheless and to offer them to me.  You brought them with clean hands, sir, and I accepted them with clean hands.  Those interests are now paramount in this office.  My digestive functions, as you may have heard me mention, are not in a good state, and rest might improve them; but I shall not rest, sir, while I am your representative.  Whenever you want me, you will find me here.  Summon me anywhere, and I will come.  During the long vacation, sir, I shall devote my leisure to studying your interests more and more closely and to making arrangements for moving heaven and earth (including, of course, the Chancellor) after Michaelmas term; and when I ultimately congratulate you, sir,” says Mr. Vholes with the severity of a determined man, “when I ultimately congratulate you, sir, with all my heart, on your accession to fortune—­which, but that I never give hopes, I might say something further about—­you will owe me nothing beyond whatever little balance may be then outstanding of the costs as between solicitor and client not included in the taxed costs allowed out of the estate.  I pretend to no claim upon you, Mr. C., but for the zealous and active discharge—­not the languid and routine discharge, sir:  that much credit I stipulate for—­of my professional duty.  My duty prosperously ended, all between us is ended.”

Vholes finally adds, by way of rider to this declaration of his principles, that as Mr. Carstone is about to rejoin his regiment, perhaps Mr. C. will favour him with an order on his agent for twenty pounds on account.

“For there have been many little consultations and attendances of late, sir,” observes Vholes, turning over the leaves of his diary, “and these things mount up, and I don’t profess to be a man of capital.  When we first entered on our present relations I stated to you openly—­it is a principle of mine that there never can be too much openness between solicitor and client—­that I was not a man of capital and that if capital was your object you had better leave your papers in Kenge’s office.  No, Mr. C., you will find none of the advantages or disadvantages of capital here, sir.  This,” Vholes gives the desk one hollow blow again, “is your rock; it pretends to be nothing more.”