“Yes, I know. And you——”
“An island,” continued Lord Tilbury, “densely covered with trees. He used it merely as a place of retirement, for the purpose of shooting and fishing; but when he invited me there for a week-end I saw its commercial possibilities in an instant.”
“Yes, you told me. You——”
“I said to myself,” proceeded Lord Tilbury, one of whose less engaging peculiarities it was that he never permitted the fact that his audience was familiar with a story to keep him from telling it again, “I said to myself, ‘This island, properly developed, could supply all the paper the Mammoth needs and save me thousands a year!’ It was my intention to buy the place and start paper mills.”
“Yes, and——”
“Paper mills,” said Lord Tilbury firmly. “I made an offer to Pynsent. He shilly-shallied. I increased my offer. Still he would give me no definite answer. Sometimes he seemed willing to sell, and then he would change his mind. And then, when I was compelled to leave and return to England, an idea struck me. He had been talking about his nephew and how he was anxious for him to settle down and do something——”
“So you offered to take him over here and employ him in the Mammoth,” said Mrs. Hammond with a touch of impatience. She loved and revered her brother, but she could not conceal it from herself that he sometimes tended to be prolix. “You thought it would put him under an obligation.”
“Exactly. I imagined I was being shrewd. I supposed that I was introducing into the affair just that little human touch which sometimes makes all the difference. Well, it will be a bitter warning to me never again to be too clever. Half the business deals in this world are ruined by one side or the other trying to be too clever.”
“But, George, what has happened? What is wrong?”