The lawyer had, in fact, been viewing the proceedings with hardly concealed impatience, and he now rose with evident relief that they were at an end.

“I have been highly interested,” he said mendaciously, “though I confess I do not quite fathom your intentions.  And, by the way, I should like to have a few words with you on another matter, if Mr. Reuben would not mind waiting for me in the square just a few minutes.”

“Not at all,” said Reuben, who was, I perceived, in no way deceived by the lawyer’s pretence.  “Don’t hurry on my account; my time is my own—­at present.”  He held out his hand to Thorndyke, who grasped it cordially.

“Good-bye, Mr. Hornby,” said the latter.  “Do not be unreasonably sanguine, but at the same time, do not lose heart.  Keep your wits about you and let me know at once if anything occurs to you that may have a bearing on the case.”

The young man then took his leave, and, as the door closed after him, Mr. Lawley turned towards Thorndyke.

“I thought I had better have a word with you alone,” he said, “just to hear what line you propose to take up, for I confess that your attitude has puzzled me completely.”

“What line would you propose?” asked Thorndyke.

“Well,” said the lawyer, with a shrug of his shoulders, “the position seems to be this:  our young friend has stolen a parcel of diamonds and has been found out; at least, that is how the matter presents itself to me.”

“That is not how it presents itself to me,” said Thorndyke drily.  “He may have taken the diamonds or he may not.  I have no means of judging until I have sifted the evidence and acquired a few more facts.  This I hope to do in the course of the next day or two, and I suggest that we postpone the consideration of our plan of campaign until I have seen what line of defence it is possible to adopt.”  “As you will,” replied the lawyer, taking up his hat, “but I am afraid you are encouraging the young rogue to entertain hopes that will only make his fall the harder—­to say nothing of our own position.  We don’t want to make ourselves ridiculous in court, you know.”

“I don’t, certainly,” agreed Thorndyke.  “However, I will look into the matter and communicate with you in the course of a day or two.”

He stood holding the door open as the lawyer descended the stairs, and when the footsteps at length died away, he closed it sharply and turned to me with an air of annoyance.

“The ‘young rogue,’” he remarked, “does not appear to me to have been very happy in his choice of a solicitor.  By the way, Jervis, I understand you are out of employment just now?”

“That is so,” I answered.

“Would you care to help me—­as a matter of business, of course—­to work up this case?  I have a lot of other work on hand and your assistance would be of great value to me.”

I said, with great truth, that I should be delighted.