"who has just been paid an extravagant fee to defend Oliver
Hilditch."

"I might take exception to the term 'extravagant'," Ledsam
observed drily. "Otherwise, your information appears to be
singularly correct. I do not know whether you have heard the
verdict. If not, you may be interested to know that I succeeded
in obtaining the man's acquittal."

"I know that you did," the woman replied. "I was in the Court
when the verdict was brought in. It has since occurred to me
that I should like you to understand exactly what you have done,
the responsibility you have incurred."

Ledsam raised his eyebrows.

"Responsibility?" he repeated. "What I have done is simple
enough. I have earned a very large fee and won my case."

"You have secured the acquittal of Oliver Hilditch," she
persisted. "He is by this time a free man. Now I am going to
speak to you of that responsibility. I am going to tell you a
little about the man who owes his freedom to your eloquence."

It was exactly twenty minutes after their entrance into the
teashop when the woman finished her monologue. She began to draw
on her gloves again. Before them were two untasted cups of tea
and an untouched plate of bread and butter. From a corner of the
room the waitress was watching them curiously.