Jacquelin’s face sobered, and he sighed. The thought of Rupert cost him many sighs these days.
“I am not sure that we have been specific enough in our charges,” Steve continued, “and I am sure the judge will be against us. He has never gotten over the peeling I gave him when he first turned Rad, and he and Hiram are as thick as thieves.”
“Yes; but, as you say, we’ll get at something, and it is all we can do. I am willing to take the risk for Rupert, if not for myself. Will you sign as counsel? And I’ll go over to the office and file it. Mr. Dockett said he’d wait for us.”
Steve took the pen and dipped it in the ink; then again leaned back in his chair, and then, after a second’s thought, sat up and signed the paper rapidly, and Jacquelin took it and went out. In a few minutes he returned.
“Well, the Rubicon is crossed,” he said, gayly.
Steve did not answer. He was again leaning back in his chair, deep in thought, his eyes on the ceiling, his face graver than before.
“Steve, don’t bother about the thing any more. We’ve done the best we could, and if we fail we fail, that’s all.” But the other did not respond in the same vein.
“Yes, we’ve crossed the Rubicon,” he said, with something between a sigh and a yawn.
“Steve, what’s the matter?”