4
Arthur P. Davis was just rising from the supper table when the door-bell rang. He answered it himself; found young Calverly there, in a state of haggard but vigorous youthful intensity. He contrived, after a slight initial difficulty, to draw out of the curiously verbose youth the essential facts. He considered the matter with a deliberation and caution that appeared irritating to the boy. But he had read and (in the bosom of his family) chuckled over Sinbad the Treasurer. He had wondered a little, though he didn't mention the fact to Henry, whether Charlie wouldn't sue. Charlie had a case.
When Henry left, clearly still in a confused condition, it was Mr Davis's impression that Henry had placed the matter in his hands as counsel and further had distinctly agreed to shut his head.
Henry apparently understood it differently. Or, more likely, he didn't understand at all. Henry was, at the moment, a storm centre with considerable emotional disturbance still to come. Any one who has followed Henry, who knows him at all, will understand that such disturbance within him led directly and always to action. Whatever he may have said to Mr Davis, he was helpless. He had to function in his own way. Probably Mr Davis's use in the situation was to stimulate Henry's already overactive brain. Hardly more.
Certainly it was hardly later than a quarter or twenty minutes past seven when Henry appeared at Charlie Waterhouse's place on Douglass Street.
The town treasurer was on the lawn, shifting his sprinkler by the light of the arc lamp on the corner and smoking his after-supper cigar.
The conversation took place across the picket fence, one of the few surviving in Sunbury at this time.
Henry said, fiercely:—
'I want to talk to you about that libel suit.'
'Can't talk to me, Henry. You'll have to see my lawyer.'