Rhadamanthus turned over the leaves of a large book.
"Carter--Samuel Travers, isn't it?" he asked.
"Yes. For goodness sake don't confuse me with Vincent Carter.
He only paid five shillings in the pound."
"Your case presents some peculiar features, Mr. Carter," said
Rhadamanthus. "I hope I am not censorious, but--well, that fine
at Bowstreet?"
"I was a mere boy," said I, with some warmth, "and my solicitor
grossly mismanaged the case.."
"Well, well!" said he soothingly. "But haven't you spent a great
deal of time at Monte Carlo?"
"A man must be somewhere," said I.
Rhadamanthus scratched his nose.
"I should have wasted the money anyhow," I added.
"I suppose you would," he conceded. "But what of this caveat
lodged by the Dowager Lady Mickleham? That's rather serious, you
know; isn't it now--joking apart?"
"I am disappointed," I remarked, "to find a man of your
experience paying any attention to such an ill-natured old
woman."
"We have our rules," he replied, "and I'm afraid, Mr. Carter,
that until that caveat is removed--"
"You don't mean that?"
"Really, I'm afraid so."
"Then I may as well go back," said I, taking my hat.
At this moment there was a knock at the door.
"Although I can't oblige you with an order of admission," said
Rhadamanthus, very civilly, "perhaps it would amuse you to listen
to a case or two.
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