Chapter Twenty Two.
A Business Interview.
“Ah, Mr Trethick!” said the banker, quietly, as Geoffrey was ushered into his handsome study, crammed with books that he seldom read, “I hope I have not brought you up from any important engagement.”
“Well, yes, I was going to be very busy,” said Geoffrey, “I had an appointment on the cliff.”
“I am very sorry,” said the banker, “I thought—”
“That I had nothing to do, and would come down directly. You were quite right, sir, and here I am.”
“But your engagement?”
“Was with myself—to go and loaf about and stare down deserted mine shafts, and growl at the obstinacy of proprietors who refuse to be made rich.”
Mr Penwynn had begun to look disappointed; he now brightened a little.
“You are quite at liberty then, Mr Trethick?”
“Quite, sir.”
“And willing to earn a few guineas?”
“Most willing, sir. When shall I begin? I’m growing rusty from disuse.”
Mr Penwynn sat thinking for a few moments, gazing at Geoffrey, and then he began,—
“Rundell and Sharp spoke most highly of you, Mr Trethick.”
“I thank them for their good opinion, sir.”
“They said that you were a man most thoroughly to be trusted, and that you were conscientious to a degree.”
“Indeed, sir,” said Geoffrey, sharply. “When did they say that?”
Mr Penwynn was a little taken aback, but he recovered himself, and said with a smile,—
“In a letter that I have received from them.”
“Then you have been writing to make further inquiries about me, Mr Penwynn.”
“Well—yes, I have.”
“Good!” said Geoffrey, quietly. “Then I presume you are satisfied, Mr Penwynn?”
“Yes, I am,” was the reply, “and on the strength of their recommendations I am about to try and throw something—just a trifle—in your way.”
“Mining, I hope?”
“Yes, Mr Trethick, mining; but on one condition.”
“And what is that, Mr Penwynn?”
“That I have your whole and sole effort to work for my interest to the best of your ability.”
“Why, of course, sir,” said Geoffrey, “I should be taking your pay.”
“Yes, Mr Trethick; but I have known cases where a man takes pay from one employer, and works in the interest of another.”
“Mr Penwynn!”
“I don’t for a moment hint that you would do such a thing, Mr Trethick. I merely say to you, I trust you to do for me the best you can, and not let yourself be tempted away from the path of rectitude by any of the scoundrels you may encounter.”
“Mr Penwynn,” said Geoffrey, warmly, “you ought not to speak to me like that after the letter you say you have had. But now, sir, suppose we proceed to business?”
“Exactly?” said Mr Penwynn, drawing his chair a little nearer.
“The fact is, Mr Trethick—this in confidence, mind, and for the present I don’t want to appear in the matter at all—I have been offered at a price a mine over which two or three companies have failed. I want to know whether it is worth my while to buy that mine, and I am going to act upon your Report.”
“A tin-mine?” said Geoffrey.
“Yes; a disused mine.”
“Not Wheal Carnac?”
“Yes, Wheal Carnac,” said Mr Penwynn, starting. “What of it?”
“Buy it!” said Geoffrey, sharply.
“Buy it?” said Mr Penwynn, frowning. “What do you mean?”
“What I say,” said Geoffrey, eagerly; “buy it.”
“You are not long in giving in a report, Mr Trethick,” said the banker, suspiciously. “May I ask what you know of Wheal Carnac?”
“More than you suppose, sir,” was the reply. “I have been looking about that place a good deal, and I am of opinion that with capital I could make it pay.”
“Oh, yes! so I suppose,” said the banker; “but you are going much too fast, Mr Trethick. What I want to know is whether the mine is worth buying at a price.”
“What price?” exclaimed Geoffrey.
Mr Penwynn hesitated, bit his nails, tapped the table, and looked again and again at his companion’s searching eyes.
“Well,” he said at last—“this is in confidence, Mr Trethick—eight hundred pounds!”
“Why the land’s worth it,” cried Geoffrey; “there can be no doubt about that.”
“Possibly,” said Mr Penwynn.
“The buildings—the material,” cried Geoffrey. “Why really, Mr Penwynn, I could give you a decisive answer at once. The place is worth buying.”
The banker sat gazing at him in a curious, searching way, and he made no reply for a few minutes; but it was evident that he was a little infected by Geoffrey’s enthusiasm.
“Are you willing to go down the mine as far as you can go, Mr Trethick—I mean for water—and to see what tokens you can find of tin ore?”
“Yes,” said Geoffrey, “I’ll go down again if you like.”
“Again?”
“Yes; I’ve been down as far as I could go.”
“You have, Mr Trethick?”
“Yes, sir,” said Geoffrey, smiling, “I have.”
“But right down to the water?”
“Right down into it, sir,” replied Geoffrey, laughing. “I had a regular ducking, for my companion let the rope slip.”
“Do you mean to tell me, Mr Trethick, that you made the descent of Wheal Carnac?”
“To be sure I do, sir. Look here, Mr Penwynn, I took rather a fancy to that place. Every thing is so thorough and well done. Then I met with a rough mining fellow, one Amos Pengelly. Know him?”
Mr Penwynn nodded.
“He is sanguine about the mine, and asked me to examine it. I did so as far as I could, and then one night we procured a rope, and I rigged up a ship’s block on a stoutish cross-beam, took a lantern, and Pengelly let me down.”
“By himself?”
“Oh, yes! sir; he’s as strong as a horse. But he did duck me.”
“Mr Trethick,” said the banker, pulling out his pocket-handkerchief, “do you mean to tell me that you trusted to one man to lower you down that pit?”
“I do, Mr Penwynn, and a precious black pit it is; and, as I tell you, he let me down rather too far, but not till I had had a good look round.”
“And what did you discover?” said the banker, wiping the palms of his wet hands.
“Nothing,” said Geoffrey, bluntly. “No more than I could find out on the heap of débris. No thorough examination could be made without the mine were pumped out.”
“And that would cost?—”
“Fifty or a hundred pounds, perhaps two,” said Geoffrey. “Principally for carriage of pumping apparatus, fixing, and taking down again.”
“You have been thoroughly into the matter, then,” said Mr Penwynn, who was growing more and more interested.
“Thoroughly,” said Geoffrey, bluntly, “I don’t play with what I take up, sir.”
The banker shifted his position, got up, walked about the room, sat down again, and began tapping the table with his fingers.
“Will you have a cigar, Mr Trethick?” he said, unlocking a drawer.
“Thanks, no,” said Geoffrey. “I don’t smoke over business.”
There was another pause, during which Geoffrey sat patiently awaiting the banker’s orders, while that gentleman was evidently turning the affair well over in his mind.
At last he spoke.
“Mr Trethick,” he said, “what remuneration should you ask to undertake to examine that mine?”
“Can’t be done without pumping out, sir.”
“Supposing I place the necessary funds at your disposal?”
Geoffrey drew his chair closer.
“Do you mean this, Mr Penwynn?”
“I never joke over business-matters, Mr Trethick,” said the banker.
“Mr Penwynn,” said Geoffrey, rising, and by his words chasing away from the banker’s mind any lingering doubt of his energy, “I have so much faith in making that mine pay, that I’ll do what you ask for nothing, but be content with a percentage on future profits.”
“No, Mr Trethick, I never work in that way,” said Mr Penwynn. “I ask your services on what I suppose to be a fortnight or three weeks’ task. I want your best energies, and a truthful and just report, not highly coloured, rather the reverse. If you will do this for me, I will give you a fee of five-and-twenty guineas. Will that do?”
“Do? Yes!” cried Geoffrey, flushing. “When shall I begin?”
“When you please,” said the banker, smiling at his earnestness.
“And you place funds at my disposal?”
“Yes, to the amount of a hundred pounds. If that is not enough, you may spend another fifty. Then stop. But mind you are doing this under orders. I do not wish to appear in the matter yet. If it were known that I was going in for such a mad venture, as people would call it, I should lose all credit in the place. Not that it would much matter,” he added, with a contemptuous smile. “Well, Mr Trethick, shall we draw up a memorandum to the effect that you will give me your best services in this commission? I trust to you, implicitly.”
“If you like,” said Geoffrey, grimly, as he once more rose and took an excited stride up and down the room. “Mr Penwynn,” he exclaimed, stopping short before the banker, “you have given me new life in this display of confidence. There’s my memorandum and bond, sir,” he cried, stretching out his broad, firm hand, and gripping that of the banker. “You sha’n’t repent it, come what may.”
“I hope not, Trethick,” said Mr Penwynn, smiling, “but time tries all.”
“Oh, no!” said Geoffrey, sharply. “That’s an old saw, and I put no faith in saws. Time will try me, Mr Penwynn; there’s no doubt of that. And now I’m off.”
“It’s close upon one o’clock,” said Mr Penwynn, glancing at his watch. “You’ll stay and have lunch?”
“No, thanks,” said Geoffrey; “I’m going to work off some of this rust. But how am I to let you know how I am getting on?”
“Don’t you trouble about that,” said Mr Penwynn, laughing. “You don’t know Carnac yet. Why, every step you take will be known all over the place, and people will be asking what madman is finding the money.”
“I see,” said Geoffrey, nodding.
“Give me a written report when you have done. Mr Chynoweth shall send you a cheque-book, and your cheques will be honoured to the sum I name.”
Geoffrey looked him full in the eyes for a moment or two longer, and then strode off, Rhoda, who was at the window, seeing him pass, evidently deeply intent upon something, for he paid no heed to her, but made straight for Horton mine to see Pengelly, while Mr Penwynn walked up and down his study with a satisfied air, as if he considered that he had done a good morning’s work.
“He’s the right man,” he said, rubbing his hands. “He’s as true as steel!”
Putting on his hat, he walked down to the office, he knew not why, but taking a deeper interest in the affair each moment, and passing Tregenna on the opposite side of the way.
“Send Mr Geoffrey Trethick a cheque-book, Chynoweth,” he said, as he entered his office, and spoiled a most interesting game of whist.
Mr Chynoweth took down his slate, and made an entry.
“Honour his cheques to the amount of a hundred and fifty.”
This entry was also made upon the slate, and Mr Penwynn walked back to his lunch.
Mr Chynoweth became thoughtful. He had played out a hand at whist in his desk that morning; and he had written an offer of marriage to Miss Pavey, who had won five and sixpence of him the previous night at whist; but this was a very important matter, and thinking that he could remain a bachelor a little longer, he took out his letter, opened, read it, sighed, and, striking a match, carefully burned it on the hearth.
“Tregenna here—Trethick to draw cheques—what’s that mean?” said Mr Chynoweth, thoughtfully. “What does the governor mean by that? I hope he is not going in for mining. If he is—”
He paused for a few moments.
“I wouldn’t bet a crown he is not going to try Wheal Carnac.”