Selwyn frowned slightly.

“But the point is,” continued Neergard, “that it borders the railroad on the north; and where the land is not wavy it’s flat as a pancake, and”—­he sank his husky voice—­“it’s fairly riddled with water.  I paid a thousand dollars for six tests.”

“Water!” repeated Selwyn wonderingly; “why, it’s dry as a desert!”

“Underground water!—­only about forty feet on the average.  Why, man, I can hit a well flowing three thousand gallons almost anywhere.  It’s a gold mine.  I don’t care what you do with the acreage—­split it up into lots and advertise, or club the Siowitha people into submission—­it’s all the same; it’s a gold mine—­to be swiped and developed.  Now there remains the title searching and the damnable job of financing it—­because we’ve got to move cautiously, and knock softly at the doors of the money vaults, or we’ll be waking up some Wall Street relatives or secret business associates of the yellow crowd; and if anybody bawls for help we’ll be up in the air next New Year’s, and still hiking skyward.”

He stood up, gathering together the mail matter which his secretary had already opened for his attention.  “There’s plenty of time yet; their leases were renewed the first of this year, and they’ll run the year out.  But it’s something to think about.  Will you talk to Gerald, or shall I?”

“You,” said Selwyn.  “I’ll think the matter over and give you my opinion.  May I speak to my brother-in-law about it?”

Neergard turned in his tracks and looked almost at him.

“Do you think there’s any chance of his financing the thing?”

“I haven’t the slightest idea of what he might do.  Especially”—­he hesitated—­“as you never have had any loans from his people—­I understand—­”

“No,” said Neergard; “I haven’t.”

“It’s rather out of their usual, I believe—­”

“So they say.  But Long Island acreage needn’t beg favours now.  That’s all over, Captain Selwyn.  Fane, Harmon & Co. know that; Mr. Gerard ought to know it, too.”

Selwyn looked troubled.  “Shall I consult Mr. Gerard?” he repeated.  “I should like to if you have no objection.”

Neergard’s small, close-set eyes were focused on a spot just beyond Selwyn’s left shoulder.

“Suppose you sound him,” he suggested, “in strictest—­”

“Naturally,” cut in Selwyn dryly; and turning to his littered desk, opened the first letter his hand encountered.  Now that his head was turned, Neergard looked full at the back of his neck for a long minute, then went out silently.

* * * * *

That night Selwyn stopped at his sister’s house before going to his own rooms, and, finding Austin alone in the library, laid the matter before him exactly as Neergard had put it.