"This--" he paused to sip--"this pal of mine has a
large holding of Wildcats. He wants to realize in order to put the
money into something else, in which he is more personally interested."
Mr. Windlebird paused. His mind dwelt for a moment on his overdrawn
current account at the bank. "In which he is more personally
interested," he repeated dreamily. "But of course you couldn't unload
thirty pounds' worth of Wildcats in the public market."
"I quite see that," assented Roland.
"It might, however, be done by private negotiation," he said. "I must
act very cautiously. Give me your check for the thirty thousand to-night,
and I will run up to town to-morrow morning, and see what I can do."
* * * * *
He did it. What hidden strings he pulled, what levers he used, Roland
did not know. All Roland knew was that somehow, by some subtle means,
Mr. Windlebird brought it off. Two days later his host handed him
twenty thousand one-pound shares in the Wildcat Reef Gold-mine.
"There, my boy," he said.
"It's awfully kind of you, Mr. Windlebird."
"My dear boy, don't mention it.
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