“He knows ’em, and he thinks they are tremendous but wrong.—No, he didn’t go west. On the whole, should you think it a waste of money if his father built him a laboratory?—Thank you. Sorry to have interrupted your calculations.” His lordship put the instrument back on the table, and fixed his eyes on Marvin. “Considering what Tonnesen has said to me, and considering that girl of yours, and considering the fact that I’ve had a million pounds from the pine on that four hundred and thirty-eight thousand acres. I’m going to accept your father’s offer.” “My lord, we are distinctly grateful, but your shares represent six thousand acres more than your estimate.” A door opened noiselessly, and the secretary laid a small sheet of paper before his employer. “Thank you, Nicholas. Ask them to come up.” The shrewd sunken eyes scanned the paper until the lawyers appeared. “Gentlemen, do you seriously demand a matter of sixty thousand pounds for six thousand acres of cut-over land?” “There may be minerals in it.” “Quite so, but there are a dozen mines in the tract already. Give me the document and hand me a pen.” There was appreciable silence while that famous _Fortinbras_ was firmly set down. “If now you gentlemen will be good enough to witness it and seal it, I will hand it to the younger Mr. Mahan, and you can take the duplicate up to town. I’m sorry not to join you at luncheon, but Sir Clifford refuses to let me climb stairs, and allows me only—how much today?” “Fortinbras, you have behaved so well that in a few minutes I shall let you have three ounces of clear soup, three of sole, seven of underdone roast, and a taste of salad.” “What, no wine!” “You’ve been having wine for half an hour—in the form of conversation with youth. But as for the physical stuff, you’ve had no liquid with your luncheon for the past three months.” “Clifford, has a sea-dog got to live forever?” “Well, then, six ounces of Hochheimer.” “Hock, the worst of German drinks! Nicholas, ask the nurse to double the portions for Captain Mahan, and send him up a bottle of port.” Chapter 58. Cerium The old man lay back and rested, closing his eyes. Sir Clifford rose and showed Marvin to his lordship’s dressing room. When the guest emerged spruced up a bit, and was standing at the window surveying the dappled sward beneath the oaks, the physician joined him. “I’ll go to luncheon. If anything alarming occurs, touch the button at his right.” “Is anything alarming likely to occur?” “I presume not, though we must expect a rupture very soon. Give him your arm to the dressing room, and permit no sudden exertion.” An hour later, when the sick-room luncheon was nearly over, the baron asked a question. “Is your father intending to reforest?”