"We went to the railway to meet Sharpe. The muff did not come nor send
by the first train. His clerk arrived by the second. We went to
Huntercombe village together, and on the road I gave him some special
instructions. Richard Bassett not at home. We used a little bad
language and threw out a skirmisher--Moss, to wit--to find him. Moss
discovered him on your lawn, planning a new arrangement of the flower
beds, with Wheeler looking over the boundary wall.
"We went up to Bassett, and the clerk served his copy of the writ. He
took it quite coolly; but when he saw at whose suit it was he turned
pale. He recovered himself directly, though, and burst out laughing.
'Suit of Sir Charles Bassett. Why, he can't sue: he is civiliter
mortuus: mad as a March hare: in confinement.' Clerk told him he was
mistaken; Sir Charles was perfectly sane. 'Good-day, sir.' So then
Bassett asked him to wait a little. He took the writ away, and showed
it Wheeler, no doubt. He came back, and blustered, and said, 'Some
other person has instructed you: you will get yourself into trouble, I
fear.' The little clerk told him not to alarm himself; Mr. Sharpe was
instructed by Sir Charles Bassett, in his own handwriting and
signature, and said, 'It is not my business to argue the case with you.
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