Hinton smiled and shook his head. “You’d better not stir up my impressions about anything these days; I am apt to splash mud.”
“We can stand it,” said Mr. Opp, affably. “If Cove City needs criticism and rebuke, ‘The Opp Eagle’ is the vehicle to administer it. You dictate a few remarks to my reporter, and I’ll feature it on the front editorial column.”
[p233]
Hinton’s eyes twinkled wickedly behind his blue glasses. “I’ll give you an article,” he said, “but no name is to be signed.”
Mr. Opp, regretting the stipulation, but pleased with the promise, was turning to depart when Mrs. Gusty appeared once more at the window.
“What’s the matter with the oil-wells?” she demanded, as she dusted off the sill. “Why don’t they open up? You can’t use bad weather for an excuse any longer.”
“It wasn’t the weather,” said Mr. Opp, with the confident and superior manner of one who is conversant with the entire situation. “This here delay has been arranged with a purpose. I and Mr. Mathews has a plan that will eventually yield every stock-holder in the Cove six to one for what he put into it.”
“Intend selling out to a syndicate?” asked Hinton.
Mr. Opp looked at him in surprise.
“Well, yes; I don’t mind telling you two, but it mustn’t go any farther. The [p234] oil prospects in this region are of such a great magnitude that we can’t command sufficient capital to do ’em justice. I and Mr. Mathews are at present negotiating with several large concerns with a view to selling out the entire business at a large profit. You can’t have any conception of the tac’ and patience it takes to manage one of these large deals.”
“Who was that man Clark that was down here last week?” asked Mrs. Gusty, impressed, in spite of herself, at being taken into the confidence of such a man of affairs.