“He can have it?” echoed Geary.  “You don’t mean to sign it over to him bodily?”

“Oh, I suppose it could be mortgaged,” answered Vandover.

“Yes, that’s the idea,” returned Geary.  “You want me to figure that out for you?  I can just as well as not.  Well, now, let’s see,” he went on, settling himself at the desk, and figuring upon a sheet of Vandover’s stamped letter-paper.  “The banks will never give you more than two thirds of the appraised value; that’s as much as we can expect; that would come to—­well, let’s see—­that would come to six thousand on that piece; then you could mortgage something else to make up the difference.”

“Wouldn’t it be more than six thousand?” asked Vandover with a little show of interest.  “I think that block has been appraised at something over twelve thousand.”

“Ah, yes,” returned Geary, putting his chin in the air, “that was your agent’s valuation five years ago; but you know property out there, in fact, property all over the city, what they call inside property, has been going right down for the last ten years.  That’s what I’ve always been telling you.  You couldn’t possibly get more than nine thousand for that block to-day.  You see the railroad there hurts it.”

“I suppose so,” replied Vandover.  “I’ve heard the governor say as much in his time.”

“Of course,” exclaimed Geary, delighted at this unexpected turn.

“Well, then, he can have my bonds,” said Vandover.  “I’ve got eighty-nine hundred in bonds; he can have those.  Let him have anything he wants.”

“Oh, don’t touch your bonds,” answered Geary.  “Hang on to those.  Bonds are always good—­U.S. bonds.  You don’t want to sell those, Van.  You see, the homestead is already mortgaged.  And, besides, you know, too, that the banks are asking an awful big per cent. for mortgages on real estate; it’s seven and a half nowadays.  Don’t sell your bonds.  I’ll tell you why:  U.S. bonds are always good; they never depreciate, but it’s different with realty, especially in this city just now.  It’s been depreciating ever since your father’s time, and it’s going to go right on depreciating.  If you want to sell anything, sell your realty before it gets any lower.  Now you don’t want to sell your home, do you?  You don’t like that idea.  You’ve lived there so long, and then what would you do with the furniture; besides, the rent of that,” he glanced again at his notes, “is bringing you in a good hundred and twenty-five a month.  If you’ve got to sell at all, why not sell your Mission block?”

“All right,” said Vandover, as if wearied by Geary’s clamour, “I’ll sign it over to him.”

“No, that’s not the idea at all,” Geary insisted.  “He wants the ready money; he don’t want depreciated real estate.  You’ll have to find a purchaser in the next week if you possibly can in such a short time, and make over the money to Wade.  But if you can’t sell in that time you will have to dig up ten thousand instead of eight.  It’s a hard position for you, Van; it’s just a chance, you know, but I thought I would give you the benefit of that chance.  If you want to give me a power of attorney I’ll try and sell it for you.”