Her Appeal was not heard till the afternoon, and in the luncheon interval he took her to some decorous dining-rooms—­such as Joanna had never conceived could exist in London, so reminiscent were they of the George and the Ship and the New and the Crown and other of her market-day haunts.  They ate beef and cabbage and jam roly poly, and discussed the chances of the day.  Huxtable said he had “a pretty case—­a very pretty case—­you’ll be surprised, Miss Joanna, to see what I’ve made of it.”

And so she was.  Indeed, if she hadn’t heard the opening she would never have known it was her case at all.  She listened in ever-increasing bewilderment and dismay.  In spite of her disappointment in the matter of the Commissioners and their Referee, she had always looked upon her cause as one so glaringly righteous that it had only to be pleaded before any just judge to be at once established.  But now ... the horror was, that it was no longer her cause at all.  This was not Joanna Godden coming boldly to the Law of England to obtain redress from her grievous oppression by pettifogging clerks—­it was just a miserable dispute between the Commissioners of Inland Revenue and the Lessor of Property under the Act.  It was full of incomprehensible jargon about Increment Value, Original Site Value, Assessable Site Value, Land Value Duty, Estate Duty, Redemption of Land Tax, and many more such terms among which the names of Donkey Street and Little Ansdore appeared occasionally and almost frivolously, just to show Joanna that the matter was her concern.  In his efforts to substantiate an almost hopeless case Edward Huxtable had coiled most of the 1910 Finance Act round himself, and the day’s proceedings consisted of the same being uncoiled and stripped off him, exposing his utter nakedness in the eyes of the law.  When the last remnant of protective jargon had been torn away, Joanna knew that her Appeal had been dismissed—­and she would have to pay the Duty and also the expenses of the action.

The only comfort that remained was the thought of what she would say to Edward Huxtable when she could get hold of him.  They had a brief, eruptive interview in the passage.

“You take my money for making a mess like that,” stormed Joanna.  “I tell you, you shan’t have it—­you can amuse yourself bringing another action for it.”

“Hush, my dear lady—­hush!  Don’t talk so loud.  I’ve done my best for you, I assure you.  I warned you not to bring the action in the first instance, but when I saw you were determined to bring it, I resolved to stand by you, and get you through if possible.  I briefed excellent counsel, and really made out a very pretty little case for you.”