“The Webb wasn’t a half a day in New York when Bradish came down to show me the documents. It was there in black and white. You backed out and dumped us. You dumped Bradish. He hasn’t got the price of a meal. I tell you I won’t shut up! If you had gone in on that last deal that Bradish told you about we’d have cleaned up a fortune. We depended on you, the both of us, to furnish the money. You didn’t do it. You sent King up there and then backed out on him. There isn’t any other explanation for it—you backed out on him. It only needed money and you didn’t send it.”
He stamped around the room, picked up his hat, threw it down again and went on with his bitter complaints.
Squire Phin stood leaning against the edge of the table, very grave, and kept his silence. But there were two deep wrinkles between his eyes, and the lids narrowed slowly. On his own account the blatant, brutal bursting in of this man at the greatest, the sweetest, holiest moment of his life had shocked and angered him. The words that he wanted to speak to her were choking in his throat. On their account the presence of the man, his selfish stormings and threats and complaints, exasperated him in his pity for the trembling old man, and the sister, who was at her brother’s side as he tramped about the room, pleading with him to be silent and to explain to her.
At last Captain Willard plumped himself down in the chair that his father had vacated and thumped his hard fist on the table.
“The sum total is, father, you’ve got to settle with me,” he shouted. “You promised to protect me and you didn’t. It’s up to you to make good.”
He had from time to time been casting angry glances at the lawyer.
“If you’ve got any bus’ness here, Mr. Lawyer Look,” he said insolently, “I wish you’d ’tend to it and get out. My father and I don’t want audiences when we talk over family matters, and we don’t usually have audiences, either.”
Squire Phin understood the dumb appeal in the eyes of the Judge. This unruly son had hold of one end of his secret and was tugging away vigorously. The father realised that the son had the right to demand certain explanations. But revelations made to this explosive person could not be kept away from the daughter. And over the Judge’s head swung the threat of the grim lawyer, sealed with its oath.
With instant pity for the old man’s agony of apprehension, the Squire acted. He stepped into the affairs of the Willard family with the happy consciousness that now he had a right to be there.
“Captain Kleber,” he said, “I have been retained by your father as his legal adviser. I have been that for some time. You may discuss family affairs with him at your leisure and in whatever privacy you wish. On account of the state of Judge Willard’s health he has left all his business affairs to me. The matter that you have mentioned is one of business. You will please come to my office with me, now.”