“When can you give me an answer?”
Judge Lomax knit his brows in thought and took a fresh chew of tobacco.
“Just you wait here a minute,” he said at last. “I’ll run out and see a party. Perhaps I can help you out.”
The lawyer hastened from his office. Ten minutes went by and he had not returned. The room was hot. Morey, in an effort to get a little fresh air moved to one of the windows. He sat down in it and looked out. At the same moment he caught sight of Judge Lomax on the steps of Barber’s Bank, in the next block. By the side of the lawyer stood the tall, heavy figure of Major Carey. Morey sprang up, looked again and then watched the two men in earnest talk for several minutes.
When the attorney came slowly into the room after another five minutes Morey knew what the verdict would be. Instinctively he had come to a quick conclusion. Judge Lomax had put him off until he could consult the enemy.
“I’m afraid,” began the lawyer, “that it’s going to be difficult to do what you want. Money is pretty tight now.”
“Then you can’t do it?” said Morey with composure.
“Not just now—later, perhaps.”
“You wouldn’t mind telling me what Major Carey instructed you to say the land was worth?” continued the boy, successfully suppressing his indignation.