The Judge bowed. He rose. He knew the world too well to give way to anger: he never lost his temper; he only sometimes advisedly loosed it.
"Is this," he asked, "your final decision, Mr. Huber?"
"Yes," raged Luke; "and you may bet your last cent on that. It’s my final decision, and it’s a plain ’No.’ If these fellows don’t do what I’ve ordered, I’ll show them up—the whole bunch of them. I’ll do it—why, I’d do it if they were the seraphim and cherubim, and all the Thrones, Dominions, Virtues, Powers, Principalities, and Archangels rolled into one!"
§1. Ex-Judge Marcus Stein had mastered, in common with most truly dignified men, the art of acting quickly without hurrying. Upon leaving Luke’s apartments, he exercised this art.
His motor-car was waiting for him at the door. He climbed into it with a judicial deliberation and gave his order to the chauffeur. The car started noiselessly. By proceeding with an even speed that avoided blind dashes into the back-waters of the traffic-stream, it made better time than its more impetuous peers and, without jolt or pause, bore its occupant quickly to the building in which the firm of Stein, Falconridge, Falconridge & Perry had their offices.
As Judge Stein passed through the outer room of the suite, he spoke to the girl who was seated at the firm’s telephone switchboard:
The girl’s neurasthenic face lighted with pleasure: Marcus Stein was liked and respected by his office-force.
"I think," said the Judge, "that you might see if you can get Mr. Hallett on his private wire, and connect him with my telephone. Will you, please?"
Miss Weston always felt that the Judge conferred a favor when he asked one. Consequently, she made a practice of giving his calls precedence over those of anybody else connected with the firm.
"Right away," she said. "And if he’s left his office, shall I try his house or his club?"
"Both, please, Miss Weston. But I have an idea that he will be at his office."
The Judge passed on to his own handsome room overlooking the turmoil of lower Broadway. He had scarcely reached his desk, and was just bending to smell of the two Abel Chatney roses that stood in a vase there, when the soft bell of his telephone tinkled.
"Stein?" asked Hallett’s voice through the black receiver that the Judge placed to his ear.