Chapter Twenty Three.
How Tregenna Hooked his Fish.
There was, of course, a reason for the banker’s actions.
John Tregenna had at once taken advantage of the proposal that he should still be on friendly terms with the Penwynns, and, calling frequently and dining there, set himself, in a pleasant, frank manner, to remove any unpleasant feeling that might exist in Rhoda’s mind.
To her he was gentlemanly and courteous, without formality, showing in every way that it was his desire that the past should be forgotten. With Mr Penwynn he resumed his old business relations, and, as the banker’s confidential solicitor, he finished and carried through a tiresome law case, which ridded Mr Penwynn of a good deal of anxiety, and put five hundred pounds in his pocket.
“By the way,” he said, on the morning when he had brought in the news of the satisfactory settlement, and it had been discussed, “they want to sell Wheal Carnac.”
“So Chynoweth told me some little time back,” said Mr Penwynn. “I wish they may get a customer.”
“Well, so do I, if it comes to that,” said Tregenna, “because I am to have a hundred if I effect a sale.”
“And where will you get customers? Why, they’ve wasted no end in putting it up for auction in London, advertisements and one way and the other.”
“Yes, and that makes them willing now to part with the place for a mere song.”
“Bah!” said Mr Penwynn. “The place is worthless. The money wasted there is enormous.”
“Yes, they were pretty extravagant; but do you know, Penwynn, I’ve got hold of a man who used to work there.”
“Yes?”
“A man of the name of Lannoe.”
“Lannoe, Lannoe? Why, that was the man who summoned a miner for half killing him.”
“To be sure, yes, so it was. I remember now. Some quarrel about a girl.”
“Of course. That scoundrel Prawle’s wench down at the Cove. Well, what about him?”
“He swears to me that when the company broke up, and the owners would advance no more money, they had just got to good paying stuff.”
“I don’t believe it,” said Mr Penwynn sharply.
“Well I don’t put much faith in it myself, but they say where there’s smoke there’s fire.”
“Not in this case, Tregenna, for Wheal Carnac was all smoke.”
“Ha, ha, ha! That’s not so very bad, Penwynn,” said the solicitor, laughing; “but I cannot help thinking there may be something in it.”
“Well, I tell you what I’d do then,” said Mr Penwynn, looking very serious; “you’re pretty warm, Tregenna; buy Wheal Carnac, and then buy up the machinery from some other mine that is in difficulties, work the concern on your own hook, and land a fortune.”
Tregenna half-closed his eyes and tightened his lips into a dry smile of derision, as he looked at the banker, and then the two men burst into a hearty laugh.
“Not exactly,” said Tregenna. “I don’t quite see myself performing such an act of lunacy at present; but really, seriously though, I do think there is something in that mine.”
“Yes,” said Mr Penwynn, picking his teeth, “water!”
“Yes, that’s the devil of it. Else they want so little for the place that I’d go to the expense of having it tested. In fact, they ask so small a sum now that a man might venture to buy it for nothing else but a spec, to sell again.”
“Like me to buy it, perhaps,” said the banker, laughing.
“I don’t know,” said Tregenna seriously; “but I wouldn’t mind going in for spending a little money in testing the place.”
“Now look here, Tregenna,” said Mr Penwynn, “what is your game here?”
“My game? Oh, that’s soon said. I want to make a hundred pounds commission on the sale, and get an account against the vendors for another fifty.”
“Do you think there is any thing in that man’s words?”
“Heaven knows,” said Tregenna; “but if they are true, the place, instead of being worth eight hundred pounds, would be worth more than as many thousands.”
Mr Penwynn thrust his hands very deeply into his pockets and whistled softly, as he gazed searchingly at the other. For, though Tregenna had thrown some hundreds latterly in his way, he was still upon his guard.
“I should estimate the land and foreshore as being worth the money,” said Tregenna. “There’s a good deal of it, and the building material in squared granite is worth a trifle. There’s plenty to build a couple of good houses.”
“Ah! you want to make that hundred and fifty pounds, Tregenna.”
“Yes, I do, certainly; but I don’t think the buyer could be much out of pocket unless he began mining on his own account. Of that I wash my hands. By the way, though, that would not make a bad building site.”
“Too exposed,” said Mr Penwynn, thoughtfully.
“Well, yes, it is exposed, certainly.”
“What do they want for it?”
“A thousand, but between ourselves they wouldn’t refuse eight hundred.”
“No, I suppose not,” said Mr Penwynn, dryly. “Look here, Tregenna, what will you spring towards having the place pumped out, quietly you know, to see if there’s any truth in your fellow’s assertion?”
Tregenna sat tapping the table with his fingers, and he did not reply.
“You don’t seem to rise at that fly,” said Mr Penwynn, laughing.
“I was thinking whether I could get them to advance fifty pounds for the purpose; but they’re so poor, and if they would it could only be on some undertaking to buy. I tell you what, Penwynn, I haven’t much faith in the fellow’s statement proving correct—I believe, mind you, he’s an honest fellow, but he may have been mistaken—in fact I haven’t much faith in any thing now,” he continued dismally; “but I tell you what I’ll do; I’ll stand fifty to your fifty to examine the place properly before you do any thing else, on one condition.”
“What’s that?”
“That if it turns out a failure and you don’t buy, you’ll make that fifty up to me out of something else—that you won’t let me be the loser.”
“What else?”
Tregenna laughed.
“There’s no doing you, Penwynn, with an assumption of modesty. There, frankly, I want something more off it. If it turns out a good thing you will come down handsome.”
“I will,” said Mr Penwynn. “You leave that to my honour, and I will.”
Tregenna screwed up his face a little.
“That’s rather vague, my dear sir,” he said.
“Well, vague or no, what do you want?”
“A thousand pounds.”
“A thousand grandmothers,” said Mr Penwynn, pettishly.
“Well, that’s not unreasonable,” said Tregenna. “I suppose—well, we won’t suppose, but put it in plain figures—if that mine should turn out well—”
“Which it will not.”
“Well, it is the merest chance, but I say if it does turn out well, I shall have ten per cent of its market value two years hence.”
“Done,” said Mr Penwynn, holding out his hand.
“Agreed,” said Tregenna, grasping it. “Now write a memo to that effect.”
“Isn’t it premature rather, seeing that I have decided nothing?”
“Well, perhaps it is,” said Tregenna, taking out his watch. “I must be off. Think the matter over for a few days. Shall I keep it quiet, or try elsewhere?”
“Try elsewhere if you like,” said Mr Penwynn, carelessly.
“All right. Good-morning,” said Tregenna. “My kind regards at home.”
Mr Penwynn nodded, and Tregenna went out, nodded to Chynoweth, who was shutting down his desk-lid over a hand of whist, and then walked swiftly away, muttering one word—
“Hooked!”