"Kendrick’s place?" he said, the sarcastic drawl quickening a little. "I shouldn’t think you’d want to show yourself again in New York if you’d ’a’ bought that swamp. What’d he ask you for it?" "A stiff figure, a stiff figure," said General Wilson with a wave of his arm, as if Bolton’s question were a missile that he was fending aside. "It’s swampy enough, and needs any quantity of leveeing and draining. But it’s rich land. I’ve been over it all. I don’t say I’ll buy it, but I might, if I can get it at a reasonable price." "You can get My Land at My Price," drawled the sarcastic voice of Peter Bolton, audibly putting capital letters to his words and making the possessive pronoun appear very large. "I said six hundred thousand, didn’t I? Well, it’s had a raise since then. It’s seven hundred thousand now. I shouldn’t be surprised if it went to eight hundred thousand before you got out." General Wilson appeared to regard this as an excellent piece of pleasantry. "It looks to a man up a tree," he said good-humoredly, "as though you didn’t want me to buy Kendrick’s land." Bolton’s lips drew into a sneer. "I don’t know why I should want you to buy Kendrick’s land," he said. "You can have My Land at My Price," he repeated, the sneer deepening on his face. "My price is nine hundred thousand now." "Well," said General Wilson with a chuckle, "I’ve been in Chicago through some pretty exciting times, and I’ve had real-estate deals in nearly every part of the country, but I never saw property go up so fast as that piece of yours out in the San Joaquin swamps." Then, changing his tone suddenly, he asked: "Why do you want to stop the trade on Kendrick’s tract? I see that you’re nobody’s fool, and you know as well as I do that we’ve got to have your place if we take his. Now, what’s your game?" A look of malevolent shrewdness came over Bolton’s face, and he pursed up his mouth as though he was afraid his thoughts were going to escape. "If you would like to know," he drawled at last, "you might ask Kendrick’s young man standing over there by the door." I was startled at this sudden attack. Peter Bolton had to this minute given no sign that he was aware of my existence, and I was filled with wonder to know how he had discovered that I was in Kendrick’s employ. There was nothing to do but to put up a bold front on the matter, and I said: "The only thing I could tell about the trouble is that the Council of Nine has plenty of money and is spending it like water." A covering of gray ashes appeared to spread over the sallow face of Peter Bolton, and caused General Wilson to spring to his feet with the exclamation: "Good God, what’s the matter?" Peter Bolton waved him back to his seat, and with an effort gasped out: "The Council of Nine! What do you mean by that nonsense? I never heard of such damned foolery before!"