Yet as soon as Geary arrived at a solution of the problem, as soon as the “deal” began to seem feasible, he commenced to hesitate.  It was not so much that the affair was crooked, that his role in it was, to say the least, unprofessional, as it was the fact that Vandover was his old college chum and that, to put the matter into plain words, Geary was swindling his best friend out of a piece of property valued at twelve thousand six hundred dollars, and preventing him from reselling the same piece at a very advanced figure.  Again and again he wished that it was some other than Vandover; he told himself that in such case he would put the screw on without the least compunction.  All through one night Geary was on the rack torn between his friendship for his chum and his devouring, inordinate ambition to make his way and to make his pile.  In the end Vandover was sacrificed—­the opportunity was too good—­Geary could not resist the chance for a “deal.”  Ah, you bet, just think of it, after all, not only would Vandover believe that Geary was doing him a great service, but the office would be delighted with him for winning his first case, they would get a heavy fee from Wade, and he would nearly double his money invested in the block in the Mission.  As soon as he had made up his mind to put the “deal” through, he had seen Vandover at his rooms early in the morning and had induced him to promise not to engage any other counsel and in general keep very quiet about the whole business.

The day after, he and Beale, Jr., had an appointment with Hiram Wade, but toward noon Beale, Jr., disappeared, leaving word for Geary that he had gone to court with his father to hear the closing arguments in the great suit against the monopoly, the last struggle in the tremendous legal battle that had embroiled the whole office; Geary was to use his own judgment in the Wade case.  Geary laboured with Hiram Wade all that afternoon.  The old fellow mistrusted him on account of his youth and his inexperience, was unwilling to arrive at any definite conclusion without the sanction of Geary’s older associate, and for a long time would listen to nothing less than ten thousand dollars, crying out that his gray hairs had been dishonoured, and striking his palm upon his forehead.  Nothing could move him.  He, also, had his ambitions; it was his dream to own the carpet-cleaning establishment in which he now had but a three-fourths interest.  Summer was coming, the time of year when people were going into the country, leaving their carpets to be cleaned in their absence.  If he could obtain complete ownership of his business within the month he fancied that he saw an opportunity to make more money than he had done before at any previous season.

“Why, I tell you, Mister Geary,” he exclaimed indignantly, wagging his head, “it would seem like selling my daughter’s honour if we should compromise at any less figure.  I am a father.  I—­I have my feelings, haven’t I?”