Sargent smiled. “That’s hardly a counterclaim,” he answered.
“Well, it’s counterclaim enough for me.—That’s just the thing. You push that and we’ll see about the rest afterwards. If she wants to go into court she’ll have to go without the children.”
Fenton’s mouth was firmly set, and its lines were almost grim. The boyish look had faded, and without it his features developed coarseness.
Sargent hesitated.
“Mr. Fenton,” he said at last, “I don’t like these cases, and when a man dislikes his work, you know, he’s not apt to do it well. I think you would do better to retain other counsel.”
“Now that’s all nonsense, Sargent. You are just the man for me. I don’t want one of those advertising roarers who’ll have us in every paper. I want this thing stopped. You’ll only have to apply for the children and that’ll end it. There are plenty of legal ruffians to be had. I have chosen you because you are a gentleman and know how this business should be handled.”
There was no note of flattery in Fenton’s tone.
“But, Mr. Fenton, admitting there is nothing in the case, the custody of the children is still a matter resting wholly in the discretion of the Court and you may not succeed. Mr. Harding is an excellent lawyer and will doubtless make a good fight. You remember, of course, that I was in his office some years ago?”
Fenton looked sharply at his counsel and his eyes narrowed slightly as he answered.