“Evidently,” assented Orsino.  “Unfortunately, at the present time, there seems to be no equivalent for ready money.”

“No—­no—­perhaps not,” said Ugo, apparently becoming more and more absorbed in his own thoughts.  “And yet,” he added, after a little pause, “an arrangement may be possible.  The houses certainly possess advantages over much of this wretched property which is thrown upon the market.  The position is good and the work is good.  Your work is very good, Don Orsino.  You know that better than I. Yes—­the houses have advantages, I admit.  The bank has a great deal of waste masonry on its hands, Don Orsino—­more than I like to think of.”

“Unfortunately, again, the time for improving such property is gone by.”

“It is never too late to mend, says the proverb,” retorted Del Ferice with a smile.  “I have a proposition to make.  I will state it clearly.  If it is not to our mutual advantage, I think neither of us will lose so much by it as we should lose in other ways.  It is simply this.  We will cry quits.  You have a small account current with the bank, and you must sacrifice the credit balance—­it is not much, I find—­about thirty-five thousand.”

“That was chiefly the profit on the first contract,” observed Orsino.

“Precisely.  It will help to cover the bank’s loss on this.  It will help, because when I say we will cry quits, I mean that you shall receive an equivalent for your houses—­a nominal equivalent of course, which the bank nominally takes back as payment of the mortgages.”

“That is not very clear,” said Orsino.  “I do not understand you.”

“No,” laughed Del Ferice.  “I admit that it is not.  It represented rather my own view of the transaction than the practical side.  But I will explain myself beyond the possibility of mistake.  The bank takes the houses and your cash balance and cancels the mortgages.  You are then released from all debt and all obligation upon the old contract.  But the bank makes one condition which, is important.  You must buy from the bank, on mortgage of course, certain unfinished buildings which it now owns, and you—­Andrea Contini and Company—­must take a contract to complete them within a given time, the bank advancing you money as before upon notes of hand, secured by subsequent and successive mortgages.”

Orsino was silent.  He saw that if he accepted, Del Ferice was receiving the work of a whole year and more without allowing the smallest profit to the workers, besides absorbing the profits of a previous successfully executed contract, and besides taking it for granted that the existing mortgages only just covered the value of the buildings.  If, as was probable, Del Ferice had means of either selling or letting the houses, he stood to make an enormous profit.  He saw, too, that if he accepted now, he must in all likelihood be driven to accept similar conditions on a future occasion, and that he would be binding Andrea Contini and himself to work, and to work hard, for nothing and perhaps during years.