"
The lawyer was on his guard directly, but said nothing.
"An interview--in this office--with Mrs. Braham."
The lawyer winced, but went on his guard again directly.
"Client of ours?"
"Yes, sir."
"Braham? Braham?" said the lawyer, affecting to search the caverns of
professional memory.
"Stock-broker's wife."
"Where do they live?"
"What! don't you know? Place of _business_--Threadneedle Street. Place of
_bigamy_--Portman Square."
"I have no authority to grant a personal interview with any such person."
"But you have no power to hinder one, and it is her interest the meeting
should take place here, and the stock-broker be out of it."
The lawyer reflected.
"Will you promise me it shall be a friendly interview? You will never go
to her husband?"
"Her stock-broker, you mean. Not I. If she comes to me here when I
want her."
"Will that be often?"
"I think not. I have a better card to play than Mrs. Braham. I only want
her to help me to find certain people. Shall we say twelve o'clock
to-morrow?"
The lawyer called on Mrs.
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