Uncle Henry couldn't believe what he was hearing. "You mean you ain't going to take the other ten?" he cried, in surprise. Gilbert never looked up from his writing. The pen was moving swiftly over the paper. Uncle Henry was on the verge of a nervous breakdown then and there. He looked at Pell, eagerly. "Give it to me! _I'll_ take it!" But Pell only said: "Mr. Jones is the owner of this property," and watched the young man write. Angela, like a timid bird, watched the proceedings breathlessly, and moved over close to her big father and put her little hand in his arm, "Isn't there anything we can do, dad?" she inquired. Hardy pressed her fingers, and said, in a whisper: "But I'm not sure there's oil here. I'm not sure at all." "But _he_ seems to be," said the shrewd Angela, looking at Morgan Pell with his wily countenance. "Oh, these New York fellers!" Hardy deprecated. "You never can tell!" Gilbert rose. "Finished?" asked Pell. "Quite." And young Jones handed him the option on the property. CHAPTER VII WHEREIN LUCIA SEES TREACHERY BREWING, PELL PROVES HIMSELF A BRUTE, AND AN UNEXPECTED GUEST APPEARS When Lucia saw Gilbert pass the paper to her husband, she thought she could not stand it. It was not her concern; and yet it was. Vitally, whatever affected young Jones affected her. She could not see him tricked, duped. And she knew that he was being played with, made a fool of. Some ulterior motive lay beneath this seeming generosity. She tried to control herself; but suddenly she found herself speaking. "No! Don't! I can't--" But she could get no farther. Something seemed to choke her, and make it impossible for her to continue. Her husband looked at her in amazement. She turned away, and was silent. "Thank you," said Pell to Gilbert. Then, to his wife he said: "And now that this is settled, we shall proceed to other business of even more importance. This gentle soul," looking at Uncle Henry, "has said that our friend loves you and that you love him. Is it true?" He was perfectly calm. Once more he was the crafty, cruel, scheming man; and back into his eyes came that glitter she so feared. Gilbert, astonished, got to the other side of the table. "I thought we were through with all that!" he said. "What's the use of harping on it?" "You were wrong," answered Pell, coldly. "I am a business man, as I told you before. I do one thing at a time." His lids half closed, his hands clenched. He swerved abruptly on his wife. "Well?" he said. "Well?" "You mean to say," said Gilbert, "that you took seriously what my doddering old uncle said? I told you I thought he was crazy, and you seemed to agree with me. What are you talking about now?" Morgan Pell's steel-gray eyes fastened themselves on Jones, "I am talking to my wife. I am not ready for you--yet. One thing at a time, you know." He looked again at Lucia. "Well? I am waiting. Answer me: Do you love him?"