“Oh, that’s all right; and so he did,” rejoined the other cheerfully.  “But that means anything up to noon for a directors’ meeting in New York.”  Then, after a pause:  “Do you know any of us personally, Mr. Ford?”

Ford was rummaging in his memory again.  “I ought to know you, Mr. Adair.  It isn’t very decent to drag in resemblances, but—­”

“The resemblance is the real thing, this time,” said Adair.  “You saw me day before yesterday, driving out of the Overlook grounds as you were going in.”

Ford shook his head.

“No; it goes back of that; sometime I’ll remember how and where.  But to answer your question:  I know Mr. Colbrith slightly, but I’ve never met any of the directors.”

“Well, you are meeting one at this moment,” laughed the young man, crossing his legs comfortably.  “But I am the easiest mark of the lot,” he added.  “I inherited my holdings in Pacific Southwestern.”

Ford was crucially anxious to find out how the battle was likely to go, and his companion seemed amiably communicative.

“Since you call Mr. Colbrith ‘Uncle Sidney,’ I infer that you know what I am here for, Mr. Adair.  How do you think my proposition is likely to strike the board?”

Again the young man laughed.

“Fancy your asking me!” he said.  “I haven’t talked with any one but Uncle Sidney; and the most I could get out of him was that you wanted thirty-five million dollars to spend.”

“Well,” said the Westerner anxiously, “am I going to get it?”

“You can search me,” was the good-natured rejoinder.  “But from my knowledge of the men you are going presently to wrestle with, I should say ‘no’ and italicize it.”

“Perhaps it might help me a little if I could know in advance the particular reason for the italics,” Ford suggested.

“Oh, sure.  The principal reason is that your name isn’t Hill or Harriman or Morgan or Gates.  Money is ridiculously sheepish.  It will follow a known leader blindly, idiotically.  But if it doesn’t hear the familiar tinkle of the leader’s bell, it is mighty apt to huddle and run back.”

Ford’s smile was grim.

“I don’t mind saying to you, Mr. Adair, that this is one of the times when it will be much safer to huddle and run forward.  Have you seen the half-yearly report?”

“I?  Heaven forbid!  I have never seen anything out of the Pacific Southwestern—­not even a dividend.”

Ford would very willingly have tried to share his enthusiasm with the care-free young man, whose face was still vaguely but persistently remindful of some impression antedating the automobile passing; but now the other members of the board were dropping in by twos and threes, and privacy was at an end.

Just before President Colbrith took his place at the head of the long table to call the meeting to order, Adair leaned forward to say in low tones:  “I couldn’t give you the tip you wanted, Mr. Ford, but I can give you another which may serve as well.  If your good word doesn’t win out, scare ’em—­scare ’em stiff!  I don’t know but you could frighten half a million or so out of me if you should try.”