"I don't want any more money," said Clark very simply, "but, gentlemen, I don't assume that every one feels that way. From this window I can see farm lands that can be bought for forty dollars an acre on easy terms, and how would you feel if, after two or three years, it changed hands at a thousand? I merely mention this because I've seen it take place elsewhere. Now I'm not going to say that it's going to be worth a thousand, and I'm not persuading you. I never persuade any one, at least," he added with a little smile, "not in St. Marys. I only draw your attention to the circumstances and leave the rest of it, of course, to your own judgment."
"Then you suggest that we buy?" came in Dibbott.
"Nothing of the kind. It's a matter of indifference to me whether you gentlemen do the buying or some one else. All I can prophesy is, that it's going to be done, but not by me or my associates. We have enough to occupy our attention for some time to come."
Manson edged a bit nearer. "The idea is that while you're investing millions, we take no risk in investing hundreds, eh?"
"I made no such inference. You will remember that so far as St. Marys is concerned I have depended on the town for nothing since my first proposal was accepted."
Dibbott nodded. "That's right. I reckon we're going to be a residential suburb to the works."
Clark smiled a little. "I lean on just four things, and St. Marys supplied none of them."
"What are they?"
"Natural laws, physical geography, ample financial backing, and the need of the world for certain manufactured products. And," he concluded quizzically, "you'd better forget that I said anything about land."
There was something suggestively final about this, and presently the group moved off, loitering across the flat, untenanted fields. Manson was in the rear, decapitating daisies with his heavy oak stick. A few minutes later Clark looked up and saw the chief constable's bulk filling the doorway. He waited placidly.