“Then good luck to you and a pleasant journey,” was Mr. Montague’s valediction.
Jacob called for Dauncey, and after an hour’s ride they had tea in a small country town and walked along the edge of the common which Mr. Dane Montague had described. From the top of the ridge they obtained a fair view of the entire property. Jacob sat upon a boulder, lit a cigarette and contemplated it thoughtfully. He confessed himself puzzled.
“They look wrong ’uns, those two,” he observed, “but this land’s all right, Dauncey. It’s a capital building site.”
Dauncey plucked at his lower lip.
“I don’t know anything about property,” he admitted. “Never owned a yard of land in my life. Yet it seems to me there must be a hitch somewhere.”
A young man came strolling along the path, apparently on his way to the town. Jacob accosted him politely.
“Good evening, sir.”
“Good evening,” the other replied, a little gloomily.
“Fine view here,” Jacob observed.
“Not bad,” the newcomer answered, without enthusiasm.