At the end of two weeks, in the offices of Palliser, Beardmore, Beynon & Riggs, Heberdon told himself bitterly that his lot was no better than that of a hard-driven cabhorse. All the dirty work of the firm fell to his share, it seemed; the endless, tiresome searching of records, the preparation of perfunctory documents, the interviewing of unimportant people, the attendance at insignificant, long-winded trials. Every person in the establishment took his tone toward Heberdon from the head, and Judge Palliser had let it be known from the first that his nephew was to receive no special consideration. It was useless to kick; Heberdon had delivered himself into b*****e, and well he knew it. Behind the old judge’s bluff joviality there was a certain remorselessness.
Outside the office things we
