“That's going some!” he said.
“Well, we've got to go some. How about it, Scherer?”
Even Mr. Scherer's brown eyes were snapping.
“We have got to win that suit, Watling.”
We were all excited, even Fowndes, I think, though he remained expressionless. Ours was the tense excitement of primitive man in chase: the quarry which had threatened to elude us was again in view, and not unlikely to fall into our hands. Add to this feeling, on my part, the thrill that it was I who had put them on the scent. I had all the sensations of an aspiring young brave who for the first time is admitted to the councils of the tribe!
“It ought to be a popular bill, too,” Mr. Schemer was saying, with a smile of ironic appreciation at the thought of demagogues advocating it. “We should have one of Lawler's friends introduce it.”
“Oh, we shall have it properly introduced,” replied Mr. Wading.
“It may come back at us,” suggested Fowndes pessimistically. “The Boyne Iron Works is a home corporation too, if I am not mistaken.”
“The Boyne Iron Works has the firm of Wading, Fowndes and Ripon behind it,” asserted Mr. Scherer, with what struck me as a magnificent faith.
“You mustn't forget Paret,” Mr. Watling reminded him, with a wink at me.