Mr. Crewe's Career — Complete. Winston Churchill

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ he continued, with refreshing frankness. “Of course, I'd seen you on the road. But you can get more of an idea of a man by talkin' to him, you know.”

      “You can if he'll talk,” said Austen, who was beginning to enjoy his visit.

      Mr. Crewe glanced at him keenly. Few men are fools at all points of the compass, and Mr. Crewe was far from this.

      “You did well in that little case you had against the Northeastern. I heard about it.”

      “I did my best,” answered Austen, and he smiled again.

      “As some great man has remarked,” observed Mr. Crewe, “it isn't what we do, it's how we do it. Take pains over the smaller cases, and the larger cases will come of themselves, eh?”

      “I live in hope,” said Austen, wondering how soon this larger case was going to unfold itself.

      “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.”

      “I want to do the right thing,” said Mr. Crewe. “In fact, I have almost made up my mind to go to the Legislature this year. I know it would be a sacrifice of time, in a sense, and all that, but—” He paused, and looked at Austen.

      “The Legislature needs leavening.”

      “Precisely,” exclaimed Mr. Crewe, “and when I look around me and see the things crying to be done in this State, and no lawmaker with sense and foresight enough to propose them, it makes me sick. Now, for instance,” he continued, and rose with an evident attempt to assault the forestry shelves. But Austen rose too.

      “I'd like to go over that with you, Mr. Crewe,” said he, “but I have to be back in Ripton.”

      “How about my case?” his host demanded, with a return to his former abruptness.

      “What about it?” asked Austen.

      “Are you going to take it?”

      “Struggling lawyers don't refuse business.”

      “Well,” said Mr. Crewe, “that's sensible. But what are you going to charge?”

      “Now,” said Austen, with entire good humour, “when you get on that ground, you are dealing no longer with one voracious unit, but with a whole profession—a profession, you will allow me to add, which in dignity is second to none. In accordance with the practice of the best men in that profession, I will charge you what I believe is fair—not what I think you are able and willing to pay. Should you dispute the bill, I will not stoop to quarrel with you, but, try to live on bread and butter a while longer.”

      Mr. Crewe was silent for a moment. It would not be exact to say uncomfortable, for it is to be doubted whether he ever got so. But he felt dimly that the relations of patron and patronized were becoming somewhat jumbled.

      “All right,” said he, “I guess we can let it go at that. Hello! What the deuce are those women doing here again?”

      This irrelevant exclamation was caused by the sight through the open French window—of three ladies in the flower garden, two of whom were bending over the beds. The third, upon whose figure Austen's eyes were riveted, was seated on a stone bench set in a recess of pines, and looking off into the Yale of the Blue. With no great eagerness, but without apology to Austen, Mr. Crewe stepped out of the window and approached them; and as this was as good a way as any to his horse and buggy, Austen followed. One of the ladies straightened at their appearance, scrutinized them through the glasses she held in her hand, and Austen immediately recognized her as the irreproachable Mrs. Pomfret.

      “We didn't mean to disturb you, Humphrey,” she said. “We knew you would be engaged in business, but I told Alice as we drove by I could not resist stopping for one more look at your Canterbury bells. I knew you wouldn't mind, but you mustn't leave your—affairs—not for an instant.”

      The word “affairs” was accompanied by a brief inspection of Austen Vane.

      “That's all right,” answered Mr. Crewe; “it doesn't cost anything to look at flowers, that's what they're for. Cost something to put 'em in. I got that little feller Ridley to lay 'em out—I believe I told you. He's just beginning. Hello, Alice.”

      “I think he did it very well, Humphrey,” said Miss Pomfret.

      “Passably,” said Mr. Crewe. “I told him what I wanted and drew a rough sketch of the garden and СКАЧАТЬ