“Good morning, Ezra,” said Rodney Merriam, blandly. Dameron knew the voice before he recognized his brother-in-law, and after a second’s hesitation he advanced with a great air of cordiality.
“Why, Rodney, what brings you into the haunts of the law? I thought you were a man who never got into trouble. I’m waiting for Mr. Carr. I have a standing appointment with him this same day every month—excepting Sundays, of course.”
“So I have understood. I don’t want to see Mr. Carr, however; I want to see you.”
Dameron glanced at his brother-in-law anxiously. He had believed Merriam’s appearance to be purely accidental, and he was not agreeably disappointed to find that he had been mistaken. He looked at the little clock on Carr’s desk, and was relieved to find that the lawyer would undoubtedly appear in a few minutes.
“I should be glad, at any other time, Rodney, but Mr. Carr is very particular about his appointments.”
“I have heard so, Ezra. What I have to say to you will not interfere with your engagement with Mr. Carr.”
Merriam stood with his back to the little grate-fire, holding his hat and stick in his hand.
“As near as I can remember, Ezra, it has been ten years since I enjoyed a conversation with you.”
“Better let the old times go,—I—I—am willing to let them go, Rodney.”
“And on that last occasion, if my memory serves me, I believe I told you that you were an infernal scoundrel.”