One look at the stormy expression on Treasurer Fogg's face told Francis that his biggest competitor had not been chosen. He kept his eyes on the floor as he walked to his seat to hide the gleam of victory. He was now the only logical choice.
When Fogg pronounced his name, George Humphries cried, "Impossible! Impossible! By all rights, I should be next!" Welbeck drowned him out with a torrent of invective.
Francis allowed himself a small grin. With heroic effort, he would rise to this occasion and deliver a Reading that would cast the other Inns of Court into the shade. He ignored the protests raging about him and turned his thoughts to the enjoyable problem of choosing a statute that raised questions with both crowd-pleasing drama and intellectual interest. He should have little trouble outdoing whatever poor James Shiveley might have planned.
The vision of shiny coins in a flat box rose again in his mind. He wouldn't have credited Shiveley with sufficient imagination for conspiracies. Nor with the courage to engage in clandestine deliveries, for that matter. But if Shiveley had not been the conspirator, how had Smythson's letter found its way onto his desk?