"I think I have it," he said, finally. "Considine is too impulsive. He was not firm enough. Now I got an important letter from the agents to-day, saying that they could do nothing about the noise of the children. In the lease it expressly mentions them. I shall simply hold back the rent and see what that produces!"
I was filled with admiration at the Angel's firmness.
The result was speedily produced, such as it was. Jepson called. He called often. Then we began to get letters, and finally they threatened us with eviction. It made me feel quite Irish.
Then one day the owner and the agents and their lawyer called, and we discussed the matter. They were affable at first, but as the noise from the Gottlieb apartment grew more boisterous, their suavity departed, for they realized that our grievance was a substantial one, yet they declared they could do nothing.
"But it is in the lease," we protested. Then they delivered themselves of what they really had come to say.
"My dear sir," said the owner, "that lease and those rules can never be enforced in this city. They simply don't hold—that's all."
"Very well," I said, triumphantly. "If the clauses upon which we took the apartment do not hold, then neither does the clause regarding the payment of the rent obtain."
They all three broke in together with hysterical eagerness:
"Ah, but that does hold. You must know that, madam."
"The rent clause is the only clause which the law backs up, is it? We have no redress against your getting us here under false pretences?"