fairer. Well?"

Gilbert didn't pause or hesitate a second. "All right. Give him the ten
thousand," indicating Hardy.

Morgan Pell was visibly relieved. Things seemed to be going his way, just
as he had planned. Sturgis had been right, after all. He rubbed his hands
in satisfaction, "And now, to facilitate matters," he said, "if you will
give us a ten-day option on the place, at a purchase price of thirty
thousand ..." He went to the table, and arranged pen and paper, and
motioned Gilbert to be seated and write.

The latter was in the chair at once. "Thank you, no. Twenty," he said, and
began to write.

"Twenty?" Pell repeated, and stroked his chin. He must be wary; he must go
cautiously with this young fellow. He would see through him if he didn't.
"Certainly. Your first offer is the one I take," Gilbert said in a firm
voice.

Uncle Henry couldn't believe what he was hearing. "You mean you ain't going
to take the other ten?" he cried, in surprise. Gilbert never looked up from
his writing. The pen was moving swiftly over the paper. Uncle Henry was on
the verge of a nervous breakdown then and there. He looked at Pell,
eagerly. "Give it to me! _I'll_ take it!"

But Pell only said: "Mr. Jones is the owner of this property," and watched
the young man write.

Angela, like a timid bird, watched the proceedings breathlessly, and moved
over close to her big father and put her little hand in his arm, "Isn't
there anything we can do, dad?" she inquired.

Hardy pressed her fingers, and said, in a whisper: "But I'm not sure
there's oil here. I'm not sure at all."

"But _he_ seems to be," said the shrewd Angela, looking at Morgan Pell with
his wily countenance.

"Oh, these New York fellers!" Hardy deprecated. "You never can tell!"

Gilbert rose.

"Finished?" asked Pell.

"Quite." And young Jones handed him the option on the property.

CHAPTER VII

WHEREIN LUCIA SEES TREACHERY BREWING, PELL PROVES HIMSELF A BRUTE, AND AN
UNEXPECTED GUEST APPEARS

When Lucia saw Gilbert pass the paper to her husband, she thought she could
not stand it. It was not her concern; and yet it was. Vitally, whatever
affected young Jones affected her. She could not see him tricked, duped.
And she knew that he was being played with, made a fool of. Some ulterior
motive lay beneath this seeming generosity. She tried to control herself;
but suddenly she found herself speaking.

"No! Don't! I can't--"

But she could get no farther.