“You will scarcely believe it,” said Graham slowly, “I’m so ignorant—­I’ve been so preoccupied in my own little affairs, my circumstances have been so odd—­I know nothing of this Sleeper’s history.  Who was he?”

“Eh!” said the old man.  “I know, I know.  He was a poor nobody, and set on a playful woman, poor soul!  And he fell into a trance.  There’s the old things they had, those brown things—­silver photographs—­still showing him as he lay, a gross and a half years ago—­a gross and a half of years.”

“Set on a playful woman, poor soul,” said Graham softly to himself, and then aloud, “Yes—­well go on.”

“You must know he had a cousin named Warming, a solitary man without children, who made a big fortune speculating in roads—­the first Eadhamite roads.  But surely you’ve heard?  No?  Why?  He bought all the patent rights and made a big company.  In those days there were grosses of grosses of separate businesses and business companies.  Grosses of grosses!  His roads killed the railroads—­the old things—­in two dozen years; he bought up and Eadhamited the tracks.  And because he didn’t want to break up his great property or let in shareholders, he left it all to the Sleeper, and put it under a Board of Trustees that he had picked and trained.  He knew then the Sleeper wouldn’t wake, that he would go on sleeping, sleeping till he died.  He knew that quite well!  And plump! a man in the United States, who had lost two sons in a boat accident, followed that up with another great bequest.  His trustees found themselves with a dozen myriads of lions’-worth or more of property at the very beginning.”

“What was his name?”

“Graham.”

“No—­I mean—­that American’s.”

“Isbister.”

“Isbister!” cried Graham.  “Why, I don’t even know the name.”

“Of course not,” said the old man.  “Of course not.  People don’t learn much in the schools nowadays.  But I know all about him.  He was a rich American who went from England, and he left the Sleeper even more than Warming.  How he made it?  That I don’t know.  Something about pictures by machinery.  But he made it and left it, and so the Council had its start.  It was just a council of trustees at first.”

“And how did it grow?”

“Eh!—­but you’re not up to things.  Money attracts money—­and twelve brains are better than one.  They played it cleverly.  They worked politics with money, and kept on adding to the money by working currency and tariffs.  They grew—­they grew.  And for years the twelve trustees hid the growing of the Sleeper’s estate under double names and company titles and all that.  The Council spread by title deed, mortgage, share, every political party, every newspaper they bought.  If you listen to the old stories you will see the Council growing and growing.  Billions and billions of lions at last—­the Sleeper’s estate.  And all growing out of a whim—­out of this Warming’s will, and an accident to Isbister’s sons.