But there was an objection, or rather an explanation was necessary, and Jansen interpreted the feeling of the meeting when he asked,— “And after?” Yes! After? “But it seems to me that Canada—” said Donellan. “And Russia—” said Karkof. “And Holland—” said Jansen. “And Denmark—” said Baldenak. “Don’t quarrel, gentlemen,” said Todrin. “What is the good? Let us form our syndicate.” “And after?” said Harald. “After?” said Todrin. “Nothing can be simpler, gentlemen. When you have bought the property it will remain indivisible among you, and then for adequate compensation you can transfer it to one of the syndicates we represent; but the Baltimore company will be out of it.” It was a good proposal, at least for the moment, for in the future the delegates could quarrel among themselves for the final settlement. Anyway, as Todrin had justly remarked, the Baltimore company would be out of it. “That seems sensible,” said Baldenak. “Clever,” said Karkof. “Artful,” said Harald. “Sly,” said Jansen. “Quite Canadian,” said Donellan. “And so, gentlemen,” said Karkof, “it is perfectly understood that if we form a syndicate the rights of each will be entirely reserved.” “Agreed.” It only remained to discover what sums had been placed to the credit of the delegates by the several associations which amounts when totalled would probably exceed anything at the disposal of the North Polar Practical people. The question was asked by Todrin. But then came a change over the scene. There was complete silence. No one would reply. Open his purse, empty his pocket into the common cash-box, tell in advance how much he had to bid with—there was no hurry to do that! And if disagreement arose later on, if circumstances obliged the delegates to look after themselves, if the diplomatic Karkof were to feel hurt at the little wiles of Jansen, who might take offence at the clumsy artifices of Baldenak, who, in turn, became irritated at the ingenuities of Harald, who might decline to support the pretentious claims of Donellan, who would find himself compelled to intrigue against all his colleagues individually and collectively—to proclaim the length of their purses was to reveal their game, which above all things they desired to keep dark. Obviously there were only two ways of answering Todrin’s indiscreet demand. They might exaggerate their resources, which would be embarrassing when they had to put the money down; or they might minimize them in such a way as to turn the proposition into a joke. This idea occurred to the Dutchman. “Gentlemen,” said he, “I regret that for the acquisition of the Arctic regions I am unable to dispose of more than fifty gulden.” “And,” said the Russian, “all I have to venture is thirty-five roubles.” “I have twenty kroner,” said Harald. “I have only fifteen,” said Baldenak. “Well,” said the Major, “it is evident that the profit in this matter will be yours, for all I have at my disposal is the miserable sum of thirty cents.”