He proceeded to develop his plan to ears which Ralph tried to make alert and attentive, but in which perpetually, through the intricate concert of facts and figures, there broke the shout of a small boy racing across a suburban lawn.  “When I pick him up to-night he’ll be mine for good!” Ralph thought as Moffatt summed up:  “There’s the whole scheme in a nut-shell; but you’d better think it over.  I don’t want to let you in for anything you ain’t quite sure about.”  “Oh, if you’re sure—­” Ralph was already calculating the time it would take to dash up to Clare Van Degen’s on his way to catch the train for the Fairfords’.

His impatience made it hard to pay due regard to Moffatt’s parting civilities.  “Glad to have seen you,” he heard the latter assuring him with a final hand-grasp.  “Wish you’d dine with me some evening at my club”; and, as Ralph murmured a vague acceptance:  “How’s that boy of yours, by the way?” Moffatt continued.  “He was a stunning chap last time I saw him.—­Excuse me if I’ve put my foot in it; but I understood you kept him with you...?  Yes:  that’s what I thought....  Well, so long.”

Clare’s inner sitting-room was empty; but the servant, presently returning, led Ralph into the gilded and tapestried wilderness where she occasionally chose to receive her visitors.  There, under Popple’s effigy of herself, she sat, small and alone, on a monumental sofa behind a tea-table laden with gold plate; while from his lofty frame, on the opposite wall Van Degen, portrayed by a “powerful” artist, cast on her the satisfied eye of proprietorship.

Ralph, swept forward on the blast of his excitement, felt as in a dream the frivolous perversity of her receiving him in such a setting instead of in their usual quiet corner; but there was no room in his mind for anything but the cry that broke from him:  “I believe I’ve done it!”

He sat down and explained to her by what means, trying, as best he could, to restate the particulars of Moffatt’s deal; and her manifest ignorance of business methods had the effect of making his vagueness appear less vague.

“Anyhow, he seems to be sure it’s a safe thing.  I understand he’s in with Rolliver now, and Rolliver practically controls Apex.  This is some kind of a scheme to buy up all the works of public utility at Apex.  They’re practically sure of their charter, and Moffatt tells me I can count on doubling my investment within a few weeks.  Of course I’ll go into the details if you like—­”

“Oh, no; you’ve made it all so clear to me!” She really made him feel he had.  “And besides, what on earth does it matter?  The great thing is that it’s done.”  She lifted her sparkling eyes.  “And now—­my share—­you haven’t told me...”

He explained that Mr. Dagonet, to whom he had already named the amount demanded, had at once promised him twenty-five thousand dollars, to be eventually deducted from his share of the estate.  His mother had something put by that she insisted on contributing; and Henley Fairford, of his own accord, had come forward with ten thousand:  it was awfully decent of Henley...