Mr. Leuppold gasped. He couldn’t help it. How and where had this polite but surprising young man obtained this information, which no member of his own firm besides himself possessed. It was uncanny. Was this the fellow they had talked about and smiled over upstairs? Mr. Leuppold took to cover skillfully, hiding his uneasiness under a bland smile.
“You’re dreaming, sir,” he said.
Gallatin shook his head.
“No, I’m not dreaming.”
Gallatin rose and took a few paces up and down the room. “See here, Mr. Leuppold, I’m not prepared to discuss the matter further now. I’ve asked you for a conference and you call my request intimidation—which might mean a much uglier thing. You’ve treated my correspondence in a casual way and you’ve patronized me in my own office. I’ve kept my temper pretty well, and I’m keeping it still; but I warn you that you have been and still are making a mistake. I’ve asked for a conference because I believe this matter can be settled out of court, and because I didn’t think it fair to your client to go to court without giving him a chance to save himself. We have no desire to enter into a long and expensive litigation, but we are prepared to do so and will take the preliminary steps at once, unless we have some immediate consideration of our claims. If you stand suit on this appeal you will lose, and I fancy the evidence presented will be of such character that you will not care to take the matter further. Don’t reply now, Mr. Leuppold. Think it over and let me hear from you in writing.”
Mr. Leuppold had not moved. He was watching Gallatin keenly from under his beetling brows. Was this mere guess work? What did the young man really know? What evidence had he? Was it a bluff? If so, he made it in tones with which Leuppold was unfamiliar. But it was no time to back water now. He smiled approvingly at Phil Gallatin’s inkwell.
“Mr. Gallatin, your imagination does you credit. A good lawyer must have intuition. But he’s got to have discretion, too. You think, because the interests we represent are wealthy ones, that you can throw a stick in our direction and be sure of hitting something. Unfortunately you have been misinformed—on all points. Mr. Loring has voluntarily submitted his holdings in Pennsylvania to investigation. You can never prove any connection between the Pequot Coal Company and the Lehigh and Pottsville Railroad. There is none.”
He rose pompously and took up his hat and books.
“There isn’t any use in our talking over this case. It will lead us nowhere. But I’ll promise you if you’ll put your proposition in writing to submit it to careful consideration.”