After vacantly smoking for a while, Gerald went off to bed. His room was singularly comfortless, but a hot iron pipe ran through it and it struck him as luxurious by contrast with the camps in the snowy waste. Ten minutes after he lay down he was sound asleep.
The snow had stopped the next morning, and reaching the railroad after a long and very cold drive, he arrived in Winnipeg the following day and went straight to Davies' office.
The broker looked up with a curious expression as Gerald came in.
"This is a surprise," he said. "We thought you were lost in the timber belt."
"It ought to be a relief," Gerald answered, sitting down.
Davies looked amused.
"Oh, so far as my business interests go, it doesn't make much difference. I have good security for what you owe me."
"But I suspect you're not quite ready to prove your claim to my farm."
For a few moments Davies studied Gerald's face. He wondered how much he knew about his plans concerning Allenwood, and, what was more important, whether he might try to thwart them. Young Mowbray was not a fool, and these people from the Old Country had a strong sense of caste; they stood by one another and were capable of making some sacrifice to protect their common interests against an outsider. If Mowbray had such feelings, he would need careful handling; but Davies was more inclined to think him a degenerate who placed his own safety before any other consideration.
"I don't want to prove it yet. It will be time enough when the mortgage falls due. But what has this to do with things?"