cDermott turned
suddenly to come back to him. "Forgive me, Ravenel," he said, taking his
hat and stick from a self-abasing waiter, "for dragging you into my
private affairs in the way I have done, but somehow I thought it might
interest you to know of my love for Katrine," and, humming an old song,
he went his devious Celtic way.

"Three seventeen! Three seventeen! Mr. Ravenel! Three seventeen!"
Dreaming over McDermott's story, Frank realized that a call-boy was
charging around the dining-room screaming his name and room number. "Mr.
Philip de Peyster."

"Hello, old man!" Frank cried, with genuine pleasure, as Mr. de Peyster
came forward. "I found so many messages from you, I fear the worst.
You're wanting me to stand up with you, I take it."

De Peyster shook his head. "Nothing so bad as that. I _have_ rather
overwhelmed you with messages and things, haven't I? It's only business,
however, not matrimony. I'm sorry, Frank," he added, laughing, "to let
you in for a business talk this way. I know how you hate it. Therefore,
I hurry. Ravenel Plantation lies between two large railroads. To get
from one to another it is necessary to make triangles. There were a
half-dozen of us here last spring who conceived the idea of building a
direct road along the south bank of the Silver Fork, joining the two
roads, like the middle line of the letter H. We believed that the growth
in that region of cotton mills, tanneries, and wood manufacture
warranted it. You know Dermott McDermott?" he asked, abruptly.

"Know him!" Frank answered. "The Almighty alone does that, I fancy. I am
acquainted with him."

"Whether he got word of the scheme, or whether by pure accident he went
South about the time the plans were maturing, no one knows; but he
bought a mica-mine, started a tannery, and secured, on the south side of
the Silver Fork, a tract of land which lies almost in the centre of our
proposed line. It's but ten or fifteen acres, but it goes from the
river's edge to Owl Mountain, and we are forced to buy from him, at his
own price, tunnel the mountain or go around it, a distance of twenty-two
miles, with two streams to bridge. A cheerful prospect! He is holding
the piece of land for which he paid ten or twelve hundred dollars,
probably, at forty-five thousand! About a week ago I discovered, through
O'Grady, that the title was in your name until quite recently."

"It was," Francis answered, with a queer smile, "it was; but, with
unusua