"What on earth has that to do with it?"
Jones blew another ring. "I had an idea that his mother might have left him something. You knew her, didn't you? Any way, you still know M. P. Did he ever say anything about it?"
"He did not need to. It was in the papers. He made over to him the Splendor, the Place, and some Wall Street and lower Broadway property that has been part of the Paliser estate since the year One."
"What is it all worth?" Jones asked. "Ten or twenty million?"
"Thirty, I should say. Perhaps more. But what has it to do with Lennox?"
Negligently Jones flicked his ashes. "Well, it changes the subject. I can't talk about the same thing all the time. It is too fatiguing."
As he spoke, he stood up.
Verelst put out a hand. "Dunwoodie is sure to look in. Where are you off to?"
Jones smiled at him. "I am going to gaze in a window where there are pippins on view."
"Go to the devil!" said Verelst, who also got up.