His original subscription of fifty thousand dollars for Kinney’s cement stock had been increased from time to time in response to the importunities of the sanguine and pushing Kinney until he now had three hundred thousand dollars invested. The bank had declined to accept his cement stock as collateral for the loan he was obliged to ask to take up Farley’s notes and had insisted that he put up Copeland-Farley stock, a demand with which he had reluctantly complied.
One hundred thousand dollars of paper in the Western National matured on the 1st of November, only five days distant. Copeland was pondering a formidable list of maturing obligations that afternoon when Eaton appeared at the door of his private office. Copeland had never had any business with Eaton. Though Eaton was defending Kinney’s patents, Copeland had never attended any of their conferences and the lawyer’s attenuated figure and serious countenance gave him a distinct shock.
It was possible, if not likely, that Farley had got wind of Nan’s interview with him and had sent the lawyer with a warning that Nan must be let alone. Eaton would be a likely choice for such an errand—likelier than Thurston. Copeland had always found Eaton’s gravity disconcerting; and to-day the lawyer seemed unusually sedate.
“Hope I haven’t chosen an unfortunate hour for my visit? I don’t have much business down this way and I’m never sure when you men on the street are busy.”
“Glad to see you at any time,” Copeland replied with a cordiality he did not feel.
“We don’t seem to meet very often,” remarked Eaton. “I used to see you at the University Club in old times, but you’ve been cutting us out lately.”
“I don’t get there very often. The Hamilton is nearer the store and it’s a little more convenient place to meet anybody you want to see.”
“I shall have to quit the University myself if the members don’t stop napping in the library after luncheon,” remarked Eaton musingly. “Rather a dim room, you remember? Only a few afternoons ago a fellow was sprawled out on a divan sleeping sweetly and I sat down on him—very annoying. The idea of gorging yourself so in the middle of the day that you’ve got to sleep it off is depressing. I suppose we can be undisturbed here for a few minutes?”
“Yes; we’re all right here,” Copeland assented with misgivings. He thrust the list of accounts payable into a drawer, and waited for Eaton to unfold himself.
“I come on a delicate matter, Copeland; business that is rather out of my line.”