Jake looked at him, faintly smiling. "You have an interest at stake?" he suggested.
"Only the interest that makes me want to push a thing to success. I have full powers though." Rafford's face reflected his smile. "When my patron got news of this thing, shall I tell you what he said to me? Just 'Clinch!' I shall go to Bishop to-morrow, and carry oat those instructions, if I can, to the letter."
"You won't do it in a day," Jake said. "Maybe you'd like to put up at my place pending negotiations."
Rafford's hand came out to him with impulsive friendliness. "No, sir. You're more than kind, but I won't do that. I've seen the animate and I've seen you. That's enough. You and I mustn't get too intimate over this deal. You know what Saltash is. When we've pulled it off, I'll be delighted--if there's still time." He gripped Jake's hand hard, looking him straight in the face. "You've given me a real happy hour, Mr. Bolton," he said. "And I shan't forget it. It was mighty generous of you, considering you regarded me as the first of the vultures. Well, I hope I shall be the last. So long!"
"So long!" Jake said. "I hope you will."
He accompanied the young man to the gate, and watched him go.
Then squarely he came back again, walked straight up the middle of the yard, looking neither to right nor left, went into his own house, and shut the door.
Late that night when Maud rose to go upstairs, he came out of what had apparently been a heavy doze before the fire and spoke for the first time of his own affairs.
"Bunny told you some time ago that the Stud was to be sold, I believe?" he said.
Maud stood still on the hearth, looking down at him. The question evidently startled her, for her breath came suddenly faster. "Yes, he told me," she said.