“I see,” Jacob remarked thoughtfully. “When they’ve bought their land, and the houses are beginning to materialise, you can charge them what you like for the water and lighting.”
Mr. Dane Montague beamed, with the air of one whose faith in the shrewdness of a fellow creature has been justified.
“You’ve hit the bull’s-eye,” he declared. “We’ve got the cost of service all worked out, and, added to the price we’ll have to pay for the Company, it don’t come to more than forty thousand pounds. Then we shall have the whole thing in our own hands and can charge what we damned well please.”
Jacob leaned back in his chair and surveyed his two visitors. There was a gleam in his eyes which might have meant admiration—or possibly something else. Neither of the two men noticed it.
“It’s quite a scheme,” he remarked.
“It’s a gold mine,” Mr. Dane Montague pronounced enthusiastically.
“There’ll be pickings every way,” the builder murmured thickly, with a covetous gleam in his eyes.
Jacob glanced at his watch.
“I’ll see the property this afternoon,” he promised. “If your statement is borne out by the facts, I am willing to come in with you. How much money do you require from me?”
Mr. Dane Montague coughed. Mr. Littleham looked more stolid than ever.