“I wish to God I could forget it!”
Copeland shrugged his shoulders impatiently, then drew himself erect and walked on more quickly. Jerry cheerfully changed the subject, and when they were near the store dived into an alley that led to the rear door of Copeland-Farley to avoid appearing before the clerks in Copeland’s company.
Copeland remained in his room all morning, summoning the auditor from time to time to ask for various data. He called Jerry once and bade him make every effort to find Kinney by telephone. Kinney was in New York; had been there for a week. Copeland smiled sardonically at this news.
“All right. I knew he’d been away, but the fool said he’d be back to-day,” he said spitefully. “That’s all!”
At two o’clock he put a bundle of papers into his pocket and walked toward the Western National. The bookkeepers exchanged meaningful glances and Jerry imagined that even the truckmen loading freight appeared depressed. Copeland’s desperation had been expressed vividly enough in his drunken attempt to burn the store. And now, if the Western National refused to extend his loans, Copeland-Farley might cease to exist. Jerry’s usual nonchalance left him. He failed to seize a chance to “land” on a drummer from a New York perfumery house who was teasing him for the latest news of Main Street....
At three o’clock Eaton called Jerry on the telephone.
“I want to see Copeland; please call me the minute he comes in,” said the lawyer.
Shortly before four Copeland came back and walked directly to his office. There was another exchange of glances along the accountants’ desks, where the clerks bent with affected diligence over their books.
The auditor was summoned again, carried a book into Copeland’s room, and reappeared instantly. The air was tense. It was a source of relief to Jerry to hear Eaton’s voice as he reported Copeland’s return.
“Watch him,” said the lawyer, with his usual calmness; “and don’t let him leave the store.”