"Yes," Hawthorne assented.
"I've heard of him," declared Stuart. "I'd like to meet him sometime."
"I can arrange that," said Hawthorne promptly. "Tonight, if you wish." The statement surprised Stuart. He had not expected to find Hawthorne and Mayo on good terms. This was a good hit, already, Stuart thought.
"Mayo is a friend of mine," explained Hawthorne. "We had a little unpleasantness, when I first came here. Mayo has a hunting lodge, and he thought that he was lord of all lands that he could view from his watch tower. Since he found he wasn't, he's been more pleasant.
"He's begun to find out that the people who are buying here in Greenhurst are of a selective class. Wait, I'll phone him and see if we can run up there."
Stuart smiled when Hawthorne had gone from the room. He saw the promoter's game.
Currying favor with Mayo, Hawthorne probably made it a point to introduce all desirable persons to the millionaire. It was a system that worked both ways. It enabled Hawthorne to impress his prospects, and also to better his position with Mayo. Stuart wondered if the millionaire was wise to the game. Hawthorne was smiling when he returned.
"Let's go," he said. "Mayo says he will be glad to see us." They left the cottage and stepped out into blackness. The night was cloudy, and it was impossible to see a step ahead. As they were feeling their way toward the car, Hawthorne suddenly pressed Stuart's arm. They stood silent for a moment; then continued their way. When they reached the car, and Hawthorne had turned the lights on, the promoter explained his action.
"It's rather lonely out here," he said. "All right when the family is here, and friends are around. But it's early in the season, and I'm up here alone.
"I've got a man here on the place — a young fellow who helps me in the real-estate business; but he goes home on certain nights, once or twice a week. It gives me the creeps once in a while; just then I thought I heard someone prowling around."
Stuart felt no qualms as they were driving through the woods; but Hawthorne's remarks interested him. Stuart decided to take advantage of the turn in conversation.
"I shouldn't think you'd be worried up here," he said. "I guess most of the people are honest farmers — "
"It's not the people up here," interrupted Hawthorne quickly. "They're the best in the world. It's strangers — outsiders, you know.
"Well" — he laughed, a trifle nervously — "I've been around so much in this promotion work, I guess I'm apt to worry foolishly. But you bump into so many cranks. People who have imaginary grievances — " He went no further, but Stuart began to understand. He recalled that Harry had said Hawthorne had been engaged in various enterprises which had ended unfortunately. Perhaps the man had reason to fear some menace.
Stuart looked toward his companion and saw the outline of Hawthorne's pale face. He realized that the man had been actually frightened.
They swung up a road and passed between two stone pillars, upon which were mounted electric lights. These were brightly illuminated, and they showed walls running in both directions. The pillars constituted a gateway. The gates were open.
"Mayo is expecting us," declared Hawthorne. "That's why the lights are on. There's the lodge, straight ahead."
The house was set in a level clearing. It was of old English style, and very elaborate for a hunting lodge. They pulled up in front. The door opened, and a tall, genial baldheaded man stood awaiting them. They went in the house, Hawthorne introducing Stuart to Mayo as they entered.
Stuart looked around the living room in admiration. It was sumptuously furnished for a hunting lodge. An excellent rug lay on the floor. A bright fire crackled in the fireplace. A glass-eyed deer head looked down from above the mantelpiece.
Stuart noted the bookcase, with its array of neatly placed volumes. Each article of furniture was distinctive. All of the chairs were elaborate, and no two were exactly alike. While Stuart was wondering who kept the place so tidy, the explanation came in the form of a Filipino valet, who entered with a tray of glasses.
The servant was neatly attired in a white coat, and he moved with catlike stealth. Stuart took a sudden dislike to the man. Why, he did not know.
Conversation began. Mayo and Hawthorne became involved in a friendly discussion of affairs at Greenhurst. Stuart was an interested listener. He noted that Mayo was rather indulgent.
"So you're going on with the developing, eh?" asked Mayo. "What if it goes flat?"
Hawthorne shrugged his shoulders.
"Remember the price I offered you?" quizzed Mayo. "It's a lot more than you paid for that acreage!"
"It's not enough," responded Hawthorne.
"Suppose I raised the bid?" Mayo suggested.
"Not for sale. I'm going to make millions out of this deal."
"Maybe you're fooling yourself, Hawthorne."
"Not a bit of it, Mayo!" was Hawthorne's definite answer.
The millionaire laughed.
"Say, Hawthorne," he said, "I'll bet you've cleaned up on some of these propositions of yours."
"I have," returned Hawthorne quietly; "Why shouldn't I?"
"No reason why you shouldn't. More power to you. Of course, clean-ups sometimes bring comebacks unpleasant ones, from disappointed customers." Hawthorne shifted the subject immediately.
Stuart made a mental note of the conversation. He sized the men as opposites.
Hawthorne, a speculator who was afraid to declare the wealth that he had made through doubtful dealings; Mayo, a magnate who was proud of his possessions.
"Swell," said Mayo pleasantly. "You're a cagey chap, Hawthorne, and I like you in spite of it. Maybe it pays you to be mysterious. Say — by the way — you might like to see this. It ought to fit in your line. A packet of letters that I've been receiving. They're rather mysterious, too." He went across the room and fished in a pigeonhole of a writing desk. He brought our a key and unlocked a drawer. He started to lift a small white parcel that was girded with a rubber band.
Stuart saw him hesitate; then make a hasty examination of the package.
"This isn't it," declared Mayo. "I guess I left the letters back in New York." MAYO
replaced the packet and put the key in the pigeonhole. Stuart threw a sidelong glance toward Hawthorne. He saw a keen look upon the man's face.
Stuart knew what the promoter was thinking. For some reason, Mayo had decided not to show the letters of which he had spoken. His excuse that he had picked the wrong package was a lame one.
"I'll bring them up when I come from New York," declared Mayo pleasantly. "I'm going down to town tomorrow afternoon. Then back the next day."
"Quick work," observed Stuart. "I thought it was a sleeper jump from here to New York."
"No, just a plane hop for Mayo," laughed Hawthorne.
"Yes," said Mayo, "I use my private plane. Landing field right out in back of the house.
The pilot's on my pay roll. He drives my car while I'm here.
"Louie looks after the place when I'm gone. I go back and forth a lot, Bruxton. Anytime you want to travel that way, say the word."
"Thanks," said Stuart. "I'll be here for a while, but I might want to run down to New York, since it's so simple a matter."
"Why don't you come up here to the lodge?" asked Mayo. "After I get back, you know.
It's better than that terrible Inn."
Stuart again expressed thanks for the invitation. This was excellent. It would be easy to watch Mayo here, and Hawthorne's cottage was nearer to Mayo's lodge than to the Inn. The clock on the mantel struck twelve with an odd, chiming note. Hawthorne suggested a departure.
Louie, the Filipino, arrived with hats and coats. The guests said good night to Sherwood Mayo.
As they drove slowly between the stone gates, Stuart glanced through the rear window, wondering if the lights of the house would be visible. He noted that they were hidden over a slight rise of ground. Stuart's interest in that fact quickly faded. For he saw something else that impressed him as much more important.