"Yes," agreed his patron, with almost a touch of embarrassment; "a very nice day, indeed."
Mr. Wintermuth was feeling uncommonly cheerful, and the cause of it was quite largely the oblong yellow missive then reposing on his desk. He knew he would have to wait a day or two before he could learn the details of Smith's doings in Boston, but it was at least a relief to feel that some decisive action was being taken.
When, two days later, Smith returned, his report seemed eminently satisfactory to his chief.
"I'm not a lawyer, so I can't tell you exactly what kind of court proceedings will have to be brought," he said; "but so far as I can make out it's a sort of action for conspiracy against the companies belonging to the Eastern Conference, joining them all as defendants. The Insurance Commissioner of Massachusetts comes in, too, in some way, and I believe that under the state law as recently amended we will finally win out."
"Finally!" said the President. "That sounds rather remote. How long do you expect it will take? Protracted litigation is both expensive and unsatisfactory."
"Oh, it won't cost us anything; the Insurance Commissioner nominally brings the suit, as I understand it, and I'm sure it won't take more than a year. But in the meantime I feel positive that we will suffer no further annoyance or injury in New England. We've already lost about all the agents that could be shaken loose, and with this suit pending I fancy the Conference will go very slow before forcing the issue further—for fear of civil actions for damages from all the non-Conference companies if we win our conspiracy case."
"That sounds reasonable."
"It is. So I really think we need not worry much about New England for a while. I fancy I managed to stiffen up the backbone of Crowell, who's a first-class field man, and I'm going to circularize the local agents, telling them the facts."
Mr. Wintermuth looked at Smith thoughtfully.
"All right, Richard; go ahead," he said. "I am quite content to leave it in your hands."