Benjamin looked at the rich man through his spectacles, without which he found it impossible to read the masterpieces of the editor of The Pioneer Bushman; pursed his lips, to indicate that he hardly relished the old gentleman’s manner; scrutinised the columns of the newspaper for a desired paragraph, on which, when found, he placed a substantial forefinger; and then, glancing at Mr. Crewe, he said abruptly, “Read that, boss,” and puffed furiously at his pipe, while he watched the old man’s face through a thick cloud of tobacco smoke.
Mr. Crewe read the paragraph; folded up the paper, and placed it on the couch beside him; looked at the ceiling; glanced round the room; turned his keen eyes on Tresco, and said:—
“Well, what of that? I saw that an hour ago. It’s very fine, if true; very fine, indeed.”
“True, mister? I bought the gold myself! I gave the information to the ‘buster’! Now, here is my plan. I know this gold is new gold—it’s no relation to any gold I ever bought before. It comes from a virgin field. By the special knowledge I possess as a gold-buyer, I am able to say that; and you know when a virgin field yields readily as much as eighty-two ounces, the odds are in favour of it yielding thousands. Look at the Golden Bar. You remember that?—eight thousand ounces in two days, and the field’s been worked ever since. Then there was Greenstone Gully—a man came into town with fifty ounces, and the party that tracked him made two thousand ounces within a month. Those finds were at a distance, but this one is a local affair. How do I know?—my special knowledge, mister; my intuitive reading of signs which prognosticate coming events; my knowledge of the characters and ways of diggers. All this I am willing to place at your disposal, on one condition, Mr. Crewe; and that condition is that we are partners in the speculation. I find the field—otherwise the partnership lapses—and you find me £200 and the little capital required. I engage to do my part within a week.”
Mr. Crewe stroked his nose with his forefinger and thumb, as was his habit when in deep contemplation.
“But—ah—what if I were to tell you that I can find the field entirely by my own exertions? What do you say to that, Mr. Tresco? What do you say to that?”
“I say, sir, without the least hesitation, that you never will find it. I say that you will spend money and valuable time in a wild-goose chase, whereas I shall be entirely successful.”
“We shall see,” said Mr. Crewe, rising from his seat, “we shall see. Don’t try to coerce me, sir; don’t try to coerce me!”
“I haven’t the least desire in that direction.” Benjamin’s face assumed the expression of a cherub. “Nothing is further from my thoughts. I know of a good thing—my special knowledge qualifies me to make the most of it; I offer you the refusal of ‘chipping in’ with me, and you, I understand, refuse. Very well, Mr. Crewe, I am satisfied; you are satisfied; all is amicably settled. I go to place my offer where it will be accepted. Good evening, sir.”
Benjamin put his nondescript, weather-worn hat on his semi-bald head, and departed with as much dignity as his ponderous person could assume.