He at once went to his lawyer, Finney. Now, Bold was not very fond of his attorney, but, as he said, he merely wanted a man who knew the forms of law, and who would do what he was told for his money. He had no idea of putting himself in the hands of a lawyer. He wanted law from a lawyer as he did a coat from a tailor, because he could not make it so well himself; and he thought Finney the fittest man in Barchester for his purpose. In one respect, at any rate, he was right: Finney was humility itself.

Finney advised an instant letter to Cox and Cummins, mindful of his six-and-eightpence. “Slap at them at once, Mr. Bold; demand categorically and explicitly a full statement of the affairs of the hospital.”

“Suppose I were to see Mr. Harding first,” suggested Bold.

“Yes, yes, by all means,” said the acquiescing Finney; “thought, perhaps, as Mr. Harding is no man of business, it may lead—lead to some little difficulties; but perhaps you’re right, Mr. Bold—I don’t think seeing Mr. Harding can do any harm.” Finney saw from the expression of his client’s face that he intended to have his own way.