Then in a few days, after his thoughts had ceased to dwell constantly on the one subject, he began to look about him mentally. Beneath his other interests he still felt constantly a dull ache, something unpleasant, uncomfortable. Strangely enough it was almost identical in quality with the uneasiness that always underlay his surface-thoughts when he was worried about some detail of his business. Unconsciously,—again as in his business,—the combative instinct aroused. In lack of other object on which to expend itself, Thorpe's fighting spirit turned with energy to the subject of the lawsuit.
Under the unwonted stress of the psychological condition just described, he thought at white heat. His ideas were clear, and followed each other quickly, almost feverishly.
After his sister left the Renwicks, Thorpe himself went to Detroit, where he interviewed at once Northrop, the brilliant young lawyer whom the firm had engaged to defend its case.
“I'm afraid we have no show,” he replied to Thorpe's question. “You see, you fellows were on the wrong side of the fence in trying to enforce the law yourselves. Of course you may well say that justice was all on your side. That does not count. The only recourse recognized for injustice lies in the law courts. I'm afraid you are due to lose your case.”
“Well,” said Thorpe, “they can't prove much damage.”
“I don't expect that they will be able to procure a very heavy judgment,” replied Northrop. “The facts I shall be able to adduce will cut down damages. But the costs will be very heavy.”
“Yes,” agreed Thorpe.
“And,” then pursued Northrop with a dry smile, “they practically own Sherman. You may be in for contempt of court at their instigation. As I understand it, they are trying rather to injure you than to get anything out of it themselves.”
“That's it,” nodded Thorpe.
“In other words, it's a case for compromise.”