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Updated: May 5, 2025
We need scarcely remind our readers that, until that moment, Wild-cat Reef shares had reached a very low figure, and only a few optimists retained their faith in the mine. As the largest holder, Mr. Windlebird is to be heartily congratulated on this new addition to his fortune.
The kindness of the Windlebirds and there seemed to be nothing that they were not ready to do for him distressed him beyond measure. To have a really great man like Geoffrey Windlebird sprawling genially over his bed, chatting away as if he were an ordinary friend, was almost horrible. Such condescension was too much.
He was stupefied and even terrified. The very atmosphere seemed foggy. So far as his reeling brain was capable of thought, he figured that he was now worth about two hundred thousand pounds. "Oh, Mrs. Windlebird," he cried, "It's all right after all." Mrs. Windlebird sat back in her chair without answering. "It's all right for every one," screamed Roland joyfully.
On thinking it over, after he had cashed Roland's check, Mr. Windlebird came to the conclusion that seven hundred pounds would be quite as much money as it would be good for Miss Coppin to have all at once. Mr. Windlebird's knowledge of human nature was not at fault. Muriel jumped at the money, and a letter in her handwriting informed Roland next morning that his slate was clean.
Put your money " he sank his voice to a compelling whisper, "put every penny you can afford into Wildcat Reefs." He leaned back with the benign air of the Alchemist who has just imparted to a favorite disciple the recently discovered secret of the philosopher's stone. "Thank you very much, Mr. Windlebird," said Roland gratefully. "I will."
Windlebird would bring one back with him when he returned from the city, but Roland wanted one now. He was a great follower of county cricket, and he wanted to know how Surrey was faring against Yorkshire. But even this crumpled rose-leaf had been smoothed out, for Johnson, the groom, who happened to be riding into the nearest town on an errand, had promised to bring one back with him.
He discovered his mistake one lovely afternoon as he sat smoking idly on the terrace. Mrs. Windlebird came to him, and a glance was enough to show Roland that something was seriously wrong. Her face was drawn and tired. A moment before, Roland had been thinking life perfect. The only crumpled rose-leaf had been the absence of an evening paper. Mr.
However, I think that our client might consent to the sum you mention." "Good. Well, directly I get his check, the thing's his. By the way, who is your client?" Mr. Harrison coughed. "His name," he said, "will be familiar to you. He is the eminent financier, Mr. Geoffrey Windlebird." The caoutchouc was drawing all London.
He held out his arms affectionately to Roland. "Ah, now you talk. Now you say something," he cried in his impetuous way. "Embrace me. You are all right." Roland heaved a sigh of relief when, five minutes later, the aeroplane disappeared over the brow of the hill. Then he began to sneeze again. "You're not well, you know," said Mr. Windlebird. "I've caught cold.
His gratitude to Mr. Windlebird redoubled. "And now," said Mr. Windlebird genially, "we can talk about that money of yours, and the best way of investing it. What you want is something which, without being in any way what is called speculative, nevertheless returns a fair and reasonable amount of interest.
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