“I mean, of course, how small an investment in your oil company.”

“Oh, anything, anything,” returned the promoter, with quick amiability.  “We need to sell all the stock we can.”

“All the money you can get?”

“Precisely.  It’s really a colossal proposition, Mr. Vilas.”  Corliss spoke with brisk enthusiasm.  “It’s a perfectly certain enormous profit upon everything that goes in.  Prince Moliterno cables me later investigations show that the oil-field is more than twice as large as we thought when I left Naples.  He’s on the ground now, buying up what he can, secretly.”

“I had an impression from Richard Lindley that the secret had been discovered.”

“Oh, yes; but only by a few, and those are trying to keep it quiet from the others, of course.”

“I see.  Does your partner know of your success in raising a large investment?”

“You mean Lindley’s?  Certainly.”  Corliss waved his hand in light deprecation.  “Of course that’s something, but Moliterno would hardly be apt to think of it as very large!  You see he’s putting in about five times that much, himself, and I’ve already turned over to him double it for myself.  Still, it counts—­certainly; and of course it will be a great thing for Lindley.”

“I fear,” Ray said hesitatingly, “you won’t be much interested in my drop for your bucket.  I have twelve hundred dollars in the world; and it is in the bank—­I stopped there on my way here.  To be exact, I have twelve hundred and forty-seven dollars and fifty-one cents.  My dear sir, will you allow me to purchase one thousand dollars’ worth of stock?  I will keep the two hundred and forty-seven dollars and fifty-one cents to live on—­I may need an egg while waiting for you to make me rich.  Will you accept so small an investment?”

“Certainly,” said Corliss, laughing.  “Why not?  You may as well profit by the chance as any one.  I’ll send you the stock certificates—­we put them at par.  I’m attending to that myself, as our secretary, Mr. Madison, is unable to take up his duties.”

Vilas took a cheque-book and a fountain-pen from his pocket.

“Oh, any time, any time,” said Corliss cheerfully, observing the new investor’s movement.

“Now, I think,” returned Vilas quietly.  “How shall I make it out?”

“Oh, to me, I suppose,” answered Corliss indifferently.  “That will save a little trouble, and I can turn it over to Moliterno, by cable, as I did Lindley’s.  I’ll give you a receipt——­”

“You need not mind that,” said Ray.  “Really it is of no importance.”

“Of course the cheque itself is a receipt,” remarked Corliss, tossing it carelessly upon a desk.  “You’ll have some handsome returns for that slip of paper, Mr. Vilas.”

“In that blithe hope I came,” said Ray airily.

“I am confident of it.  I have my own ways of divination, Mr. Corliss.  I have gleams.”  He rose as if to go, but stood looking thoughtfully about the apartment again.  “Singular impression,” he murmured.  “Not exactly as if I’d seen it in a dream; and yet—­and yet——­”