‘By George, he’ll hear you, Mr. Bagwax;—­he will indeed.’  But at that moment Sir John’s bell was rung, and Bagwax was summoned into the great man’s room.  Sir John was sitting at a large office-table so completely covered with papers that a whole chaos of legal atoms seemed to have been deposited there by the fortuitous operation of ages.  Bagwax, who had his large bag in his hand, looked forlornly round the room for some freer and more fitting board on which he might expose his documents.  But there was none.  There were bookshelves filled with books, and a large sofa which was covered also with papers, and another table laden with what seemed to be a concrete chaos,—­whereas the chaos in front of Sir John was a chaos in solution.  Sir John liked Bagwax, though he was generally opposed to zealous co-operators.  There was in the man a mixture of intelligence and absurdity, of real feeling and affectation, of genuine humility as to himself personally and of thorough confidence in himself post-officially, which had gratified Sir John; and Sir John had been quite sure that the post-office clerk had intended to speak the absolute truth, with an honest, manly conviction in the innocence of his client, and in the guilt of the witnesses on the other side.  He was therefore well disposed towards Bagwax.  ’Well, Mr. Bagwax he said; ’so I understand you have got a little further in the matter since I saw you last.’

‘A good deal further, Sir John.’

‘As how?  Perhaps you can explain it shortly.’

This was troublesome.  Bagwax did not think that he could explain the matter very shortly.  He could not explain the matter at all without showing his envelopes; and how was he to show them in the present condition of that room?  He immediately dived into his bag and brought forth the first bundle of envelopes.  ’Perhaps, Sir John, I had better put them out upon the floor,’ he said.

‘Must I see all those?’

There were many more bundles within which Bagwax was anxious that the barrister should examine minutely.  ’It is very important, Sir John.  It is indeed.  It is really altogether a case of postmarks,—­altogether.  We have never in our branch had anything so interesting before.  If we can show that that envelope certainly was not stamped with that postmark in the Sydney post-office on the 10th May 1873, then we shall get him out,—­shan’t we?’

‘It will be very material, Mr. Bagwax,’ said Sir John, cautiously.

’They will all have sworn falsely, and then somebody must have obtained the postmark surreptitiously.  There must have been a regular plant.  The stamp must have been made up and dated on purpose,—­so as to give a false date.  Some official in the Sydney post-office must have been employed.’

‘That’s what we want you to find out over there,’ said Sir John, who was not quite so zealous, perhaps not quite so conscientious, as his more humble assistant,—­whose mind was more occupied with other matters.  ‘You’ll find out all that at Sydney.’