“I hoped you’d come to tell me we’d got a decision in the cement case. It would cheer us a good deal to know that Kinney’s patents have been sustained.”
“I’m sorry we haven’t got a decision yet. But I’m reasonably sure of success there. If I hadn’t had faith in Kinney’s patents I shouldn’t have undertaken to defend them. We ought to have a decision now very shortly; any day, in fact.”
“Well, Kinney isn’t worrying; he’s been going ahead just as though his rights were founded on rock.”
“I think they are. It might have been better policy not to extend the business until we had clearance papers from the highest court, but Kinney thought he ought to push on while the going’s good. He’s an ambitious fellow, and the stuff he makes is in demand; but you know more about that than I do.”
“To be frank about it, I’d be glad to clear out of it,” said Copeland. “But I can’t desert him while his patents are in question—the stock’s unsalable now, of course.”
“There was a time when we might have compromised those suits on fairly good terms; but I advised Kinney against it. The responsibility of making the fight is mine. And,” Eaton added with one of his rare smiles, “I shall owe you all an apology if I get whipped.”
Copeland shrugged his shoulders. His uncertainty as to the nature of Eaton’s errand caused him to fidget nervously.
“As I said before,” Eaton resumed, “my purpose in coming to see you is wholly out of my line. In fact, I shan’t be surprised if you call it sheer impudence; but I wish to assure you that I come in the best spirit in the world. I hope you will understand that.”
Copeland was confident now that Eaton brought some message from Farley. There was no other imaginable explanation of the visit. He was thinking hard, and to gain time he opened his top drawer and extended a box of cigars.
“No, thanks,” said Eaton, staring absently at the cigars. “To repeat, Copeland, my errand isn’t an agreeable one, and I apologize for my presumption in undertaking it.”