“It’s a matter of interpretation,” he went on, with his voice shaking for an instant. “And you’re the interpreter. It came up so suddenly last week that I couldn’t get hold of you. But I took a chance, anyway.... Does a lease count?”
The lawyer looked very sober. “A lease?”
“Yes. If I leased part of the theatre to somebody, would the income from that count?”
During the resultant silence, Anna distinctly heard her own heart beating. She looked at Mr. Archer, and saw that his brows were drawn down, and that his eyes were distant. Fearfully, she hung on his reply.
“That’s a delicate question, Henry. You were supposed to make your profit from the operation of the theatre.”
Henry was tense. “I don’t mean if I leased the theatre. I mean if I leased some part of it––some part that wouldn’t interfere with the show.”
Anna closed her eyes. Mr. Archer’s brows 292 had risen to normal. “Why, in that case, I should certainly say that the income would count, Henry. Let’s see the lease?”
Anna wished that Henry would come over to her, and hold her in his arms while Mr. Archer, with maddening deliberation, glanced through the long typewritten document––but Henry had turned his back, and was gazing out of the window.
“Peter McClellan? What’s he want so much space for?”
Henry made no response. There was a long hiatus, broken only by the rustling of the pages.