"clever dealing," "sharp practice" perhaps. But he had
no intention of overstepping the law. If, after he was safely away,
trouble developed as a result of the situation which he left behind
him, that would be the least of his worries. The "mismanagement" of
his successors in the control of the loan company would be responsible,
not J. Cuthbert Nickleby.

The old Abercrombie farm, outside the city limits, had been a happy
discovery. The property really was a valuable one and before many
years went by it was destined to rise in value rapidly as the city
grew. The place had dropped into neglect of late and the old lady who
had fallen heir to the estate was a non-resident. Rives had discovered
that this spinster, Miss Patience Hollinsworth, was in her dotage and
for a man of Rives' ability the rest had been easy. He had secured an
option on the farm at a ridiculous price. Nickleby thereupon had had
it subdivided into blocks and streets and building lots, and the
beautiful new residential suburb of "River Glen" had appeared in blue
print.

At the moment these very blueprints, mounted on beaver-board, were
propped in convenient position about the library. On the Honorable
Milton's desk reposed sundry legal documents pertaining to the transfer
of the Abercrombie property and certain other papers awaiting signature.

"I've seen Fawkner, of Suburban Trolleys Ltd., and it will be a simple
matter for them to extend their line as soon as you're ready to put
'River Glen' on the market," remarked Nickleby. "Properly advertised,
gentlemen, that subdivision will net a clean half million. I'm getting
quite excited about it myself and I only wish I was going to be on hand
to handle it personally."

"I'm sure you do," commented Ferguson. "With things moving as they are
at present, it ought to go, Milt."

"It looks good to me," was the Honorable Milton Waring's ready response.

"The proposition is certainly an exceptional one," went on Nickleby.

"Very exceptional," grinned Ferguson, running his hand up along the
bald streak on top of his head. "So much so, J. C., that you've got to
convince us that this 'control' of the Interprovincial you are to hand
over to us is _bona fide_ beyond question. We'd be in a fine mess if
we lost out at the annual meeting, wouldn't we?"

"Yes, that is important, J. C.," nodded Waring. "You might just go
into that end of it a little more fully. Why not begin at the
beginning and tel