The Spaniard bowed.
“I am pleased to meet you, Mr. Oliver,” he said, falling into a natural mistake, as Oliver had intended he should. “You are looking for a mine?”
“Yes; a mine that was located a number of years ago.”
“And what mine was that?”
“The Aurora.”
The Spaniard turned pale, and clasped his hands together.
“I—I—know of no such mine around here,” he faltered.
“Not at all?” asked Oliver sharply.
“No, no; I am quite sure. What makes you think there is a mine by that name near here?”