CHAPTER XII
Dauncey accepted his chief’s invitation, one morning about a week later, when things were slack, to sit in his room and have a chat.
“How goes the dancing?” he enquired, stretching out his hand for a cigarette.
“Interesting developments may shortly be expected,” Jacob replied reflectively. “Up to the present, only two of the party have declared themselves. Mr. Mason has made propositions to me with regard to finding the money for starting a night club, and Mr. Hartwell has offered me a share in some oil springs in Trinidad.”
“A certain lack of imagination about Hartwell’s offer,” Dauncey commented.
“On the contrary, I thought it rather subtle,” Jacob observed. “You see, I am supposed to know all about oil, although I really know no more about it than the man in the moon. And there certainly is oil in Trinidad.”
“What about the others?”
“Lady Powers,” Jacob confessed, “has shown a flattering desire for my escort to dinner; in fact, I am afraid I am committed to next Sunday night. It appears that she is in some slight financial trouble and requires the advice of a man of the world.”
“Hm!” Dauncey ejaculated. “What does Miss Bultiwell say to that?”