“Then what do you want?”
“Several things,” said Locke. “I want a fair deal for my clients, Crooks and Kent. I want damages for the outrageous freight rate you made for their injury. They must have cars, hereafter, when they want them. The political ukase forbidding purchases from them must be withdrawn, and the markets must be thrown open to them again. The crooked system of double-check tenders for timber limits must be altered. And generally you must stop hammering these men and using your influence against them.”
Garwood waved an impatient hand. “We are not discussing these things now. Leave them aside. What do you want for yourself?”
“They are not to be left aside. My clients will pay my fees. I can’t accept anything from you as matters stand.”
Garwood stared incredulously. “I thought I was dealing with a lawyer,” said he.
“You will be absolutely certain of that in a very short time,” Locke retorted bitingly.
Garwood saw his own mistake immediately. You may make an amusing pun on a man’s name or gently insinuate that the majority of the members of the profession to which he belongs are unblushing rascals, and the man may smile: but in his heart he feels like killing you. And so Garwood, who desired to come to terms with Locke if possible, apologized. The lawyer accepted the apology coldly and waited.
“Your demands for your clients are out of the question,” Garwood resumed positively. “We need not discuss them at all. I came here to make an arrangement with you. I have made you an offer which most men would snap at. I ask you again what you want?”
“I have told you,” Locke replied. “I am bound to my clients. That is absolute and final. If you will not recognize their claims I will proceed with the Dingle action and follow it by another, as you infer.”
“I dislike to upset your carefully arranged plans,” said Garwood, “but Dingle will come to you to-morrow, pay your fees, and instruct you to discontinue the action.”