“I can't contain myself!” sputtered the general. “If I was ten years younger—yes, five years younger, I'd horsewhip him within an inch of his life—yes, I would, by God!” He mopped his face with his handkerchief. His burst of anger left him helpless and wretched. “Ain't it awful, Steve?” he moaned.
“Yes, general. Here, sit down.” He drew forward the chair Wade had vacated, and the general collapsed weakly into it.
“You know that your aunt has charged Jake Benson with stealing—never mind the legal points—that's what it amounts to; Jake Benson, mind you—Jake Benson!” his voice rose in a thin quaver of anguish.
“It's not so bad as that,” said Stephen.
“I heard it all!” cried Gibbs, in a shocked voice. “She came there to the office, and before us all, charged him with fraud—charged Jake Benson—my God—my God! What does it all mean, Steve; can you tell me that?”
“It means a suit,” said Stephen sadly.
“But Jake Benson never done it—he couldn't! I've known him all my life; he's stood at the very head of his profession; he's built a great reputation, and now—it's a conspiracy to pull him down!”
“I don't understand it, but Wade has certain evidence—”
“I don't believe it!” shouted the old man. “Steve, they've corrupted your judgment. You know he couldn't do it. Any other man might, but he couldn't—he just couldn't!”
“How is he? Was he terribly shaken?”