Now I really understood what James Sullivan was up to. Aidan O’Hanlon was one of these gamblers. If there was no oil in the wells he drilled, he’d be running short of money. Then he’d want more leases to try again. But if I was able to buy the leases out from under his nose, he’d be left penniless. I had to admit ’twas a brilliant scheme altogether.

* * *

After my first visit to the oil fields, I was anxious to get to work. I was glad he’d agreed that I could stay in Dallas. Shotgun City was dirty and noisy, and the Kearney Hotel looked shabby, not to mention the fact that I risked running into Delia. Besides, after a hard day touring the ranches and farms, I’d be dying to come back to the Adolphus and soak in a lovely, warm bath. I was getting used to luxury, no doubt about it.

Sullivan had hired a car and driver for me, but the following morning instead of going straight to Shotgun City, the driver took me to a building in Dallas. The sign on the door said “S&K Exploration.” Two older men greeted me, and Kearney was there as well. That man seemed to be everywhere. He introduced the other two. One was a geologist name of Harris, a feller who studied the soil and guessed whether there was a good chance of oil underneath. Unless he was a magician, I thought, he’d be as much use as a hole in the wall. The other one was a slippery-looking boyo with a face like a rat who said he was a scout: Sullivan’s eyes and ears on the ground. Scout, my arse, I thought; he was a spy if ever I saw one. His name was Grissom, and I made a point to remember it, even though I hoped I’d never run into him again. I still hadn’t worked out what Kearney did. Did he know Sullivan’s plan? I put the question out of my head. After all, I’d be getting paid a good wage and a bonus for every lease I arranged, and that’s what counted.