s. Money talked, in arrogant tones that
commanded respect.

He pressed a button.

"Bring me," he ordered the clerk who appeared, "all correspondence
relating to this matter," and he penciled a few sentences on a slip of
paper.

He delved into the papers that were presently set before him.

"Ah, yes," he said. "Lot 2027 situated on the south slope of the Toba
Valley. Purchased for your account July, 1912. Sale ordered October,
1914. We had some correspondence about that early in 1915, while you
were in London. Do you recall it, Mr. Hollister?"

"Yes. You wrote that the timber market was dead, that any sale
possible must be at a considerable sacrifice. Afterward, when I got to
the front, I had no time to think about things like that. But I
remember writing you to sell, even at a sacrifice."

"Yes, yes. Quite so," Mr. Lewis agreed. "I recall the whole matter
very clearly. Conditions at that time were very bad, you know. It was
impossible to find a purchaser on short notice. Early in 1917 there
was a chance to sell, at a considerably reduced figure. But I couldn't
get in touch with you. You didn't answer our cable. I couldn't take
the responsibility of a sacrifice sale."

Hollister nodded. In 1917 he was a nameless convalescent in a German
hospital; officially he was dead. Months before that such things as
distant property rights had ceased to be of any moment. He had
forgotten this holding of timber in British Columbia. He was too full
of bitter personal misery to trouble about money.

"Failing to reach you we waited until we should hear from you--or from
your estate." Mr. Lewis cleared his throat as if it embarrassed him to
mention that contingency. "In war--there was that possibility, you
understand. We did not feel justified; so much time had elapsed. There
was risk to us in acting without verifying our instructions."

"So this property is still to be marketed. The carrying charges, as I
remember, were small. I presume you carried them."

"Oh, assuredly," Mr. Lewis asserted. "We protected your interests to
the very best of our ability."

"Well, find me a buyer for that limit as soon as you can," Hollister
said abruptly. "I want to turn it into cash."

"We shall set about this at once," Mr. Lewis said. "It may take a
little time--conditions, as a result of the armistice, are again
somewhat unsettled in the logging industry. Airplane spruce production
is dead--dead as a salt mackerel--and fir and cedar slum