“Let me see,” said Mr. Crewe, “isn’t your father the chief attorney in this State for the Northeastern?  How do you happen to be on the other side?”

“By the happy accident of obtaining a client,” said Austen.

Mr. Crewe glanced at him again.  In spite of himself, respect was growing in him.  He had expected to find a certain amount of eagerness and subserviency—­though veiled; here was a man of different calibre than he looked for in Ripton.

“The fact is,” he declared, “I have a grievance against the Northeastern Railroads, and I have made up my mind that you are the man for me.”

“You may have reason to regret your choice,” Austen suggested.

“I think not,” replied Mr. Crewe, promptly; “I believe I know a man when I see one, and you inspire me with confidence.  This matter will have a double interest for you, as I understand you are fond of horses.”

“Horses?”

“Yes,” Mr. Crewe continued, gaining a little heat at the word, “I bought the finest-lookin’ pair you ever saw in New York this spring,—­all-around action, manners, conformation, everything; I’ll show ’em to you.  One of ‘em’s all right now; this confounded railroad injured the other gettin’ him up here.  I’ve put in a claim.  They say they didn’t, my man says they did.  He tells me the horse was thrown violently against the sides of the car several times.  He’s internally injured.  I told ’em I’d sue ’em, and I’ve decided that you are the man to take the case—­on conditions.”

Austen’s sense of humour saved him,—­and Mr. Humphrey Crewe had begun to interest him.  He rose and walked to the window and looked out for a few moments over the flower garden before he replied:—­“On what conditions?”

“Well,” said Mr. Crewe, “frankly, I don’t want to pay more than the horse is worth, and it’s business to settle on the fee in case you win.  I thought—­”

“You thought,” said Austen, “that I might not charge as much as the next man.”

“Well,” said Mr. Crewe, “I knew that if you took the case, you’d fight it through, and I want to get even with ’em.  Their claim agent had the impudence to suggest that the horse had been doctored by the dealer in New York.  To tell me that I, who have been buying horses all my life, was fooled.  The veterinary swears the animal is ruptured.  I’m a citizen of Avalon County, though many people call me a summer resident; I’ve done business here and helped improve the neighbourhood for years.  It will be my policy to employ home talent Avalon County lawyers, for instance.  I may say, without indiscretion, that I intend from now on to take even a greater interest in public affairs.  The trouble is in this country that men in my position do not feel their responsibilities.”

“Public spirit is a rare virtue,” Austen remarked, seeing that he was expected to say something.  “Avalon County appreciates the compliment, —­if I may be permitted to answer for it.”