Mr. Cavendish sat down and consulted his client.  Mr. Belcher was afraid of Yates.  The witness not only knew too much concerning his original intentions, but he was a lawyer who, if questioned too closely and saucily, would certainly manage to bring in facts to his disadvantage.  Yates had already damaged him sadly, and Mr. Belcher felt that it would not do to provoke a re-direct examination.  So, after a whispered colloquy with his counsel, the latter told the witness that he was done with him.  Then Mr. Belcher and his counsel conversed again for some time, when Mr. Balfour rose and said, addressing the Court: 

“The defendant and his counsel evidently need time for consultation, and, as there is a little preliminary work to be done before I present another witness, I suggest that the Court take a recess of an hour.  In the meantime, I wish to secure photographic copies of the signatures of the two autograph letters, and of the four signatures of the assignment.  I ask the Court to place these documents in the keeping of an officer, to be used for this purpose, in an adjoining room, where I have caused a photographic apparatus to be placed, and where a skillful operator is now in waiting.  I ask this privilege, as it is essential to a perfect demonstration of the character of the document on which the decision of this case must turn.”

The Judge acceded to Mr. Balfour’s request, both in regard to the recess and the use of the paper, and the assembly broke up into little knots of earnest talkers, most of whom manifested no desire to leave the building.

Mr. Cavendish approached Mr. Balfour, and asked for a private interview.  When they had retired to a lobby, he said:  “You are not to take any advantage of this conversation.  I wish to talk in confidence.”

“Very well,” said Mr. Balfour.

“My client,” said Cavendish, “is in a devilish bad box.  His principal witness has run away, his old friends all turn against him, and circumstantial evidence doesn’t befriend him.  I have advised him to stop this suit right here, and make a compromise.  No one wants to kill the General.  He’s a sharp man, but he is good-natured, and a useful citizen.  He can handle these patents better than Benedict can, and make money enough for both of them.  What could Benedict do if he had the patents in his hands?  He’s a simpleton.  He’s a nobody.  Any man capable of carrying on his business would cheat him out of his eye-teeth.”

“I am carrying on his business, myself, just at this time,” remarked Mr. Balfour, seriously.

“That’s all right, of course; but you know that you and I can settle this business better for these men than they can settle it for themselves.”

“I’ll be frank with you,” said Mr. Balfour.  “I am not one who regards Robert Belcher as a good-natured man and a useful citizen, and I, for one—­to use your own phrase—­want to kill him.  He has preyed upon the public for ten years, and I owe a duty not only to my client but to society I understand how good a bargain I could make with him at this point, but I will make no bargain with him.  He is an unmitigated scoundrel, and he will only go out of this Court to be arrested for crime; and I do not expect to drop him until I drop him into a Penitentiary, where he can reflect upon his forgeries at leisure.”