Sydney Chalmers was one of them; and while Ben was annoyed by his presence at this particular time, he did not like to ask him to leave.
Syd walked about with a supercilious stare which so irritated Ben that he relieved his feelings by flinging shovelfuls of coal into the furnace.
The two hours were nearly up, and Mundon must soon return.
One of the self-invited visitors proved to be a reporter who walked about, notebook in hand, scanning the surroundings.
When Mundon returned, Ben suggested that the strangers be asked to leave; but Mundon did not approve of this.
“It never did anybody any harm to be on the good side of the newspapers, and it gen’rally does a body heaps of harm to be on the bad side of ’em,” he sagely remarked. “Let him get his scoop. That’s a real cherry-red,” he added as he looked at the retort. “Give us a hand, Ben.”
They lifted the retort from the furnace.
“It’s got to chill now,” said Mundon, and he turned his attention to the reporter, whom he regaled with such Munchausen tales that that experienced gentleman had hard work to separate fiction from fact.
“S’pose you think your fortune’s in sight?” Syd contemptuously looked at the retort.