On the Saturday night Scales came down, deferential and obsequious as usual, but clearly a little ill at ease. Arthur dined with him in the old-fashioned inn-parlour, and after dinner came at once to the point. He said bluntly that he believed the Leatham Brick Manufacturing Co. was a worthless property.
Scales smiled enigmatically.
"You appear to dissent," said Arthur.
"No, not altogether. I never thought much of it myself."
"Then why do you want my father to buy it?"
"Why, to resell it, of course."
"If it's worthless, you can't resell it."
"It won't be worthless if your father gets it. If it's worthless now, it's because it hasn't been developed. The present owner hasn't had the money to put into it. Your father will develop it."
"And then?
"Make it a company."