“That will be a matter of time, doubtless,” suggested the other encouragingly.
Instead of replying Draycott suddenly dropped his arms on to the table and buried his face between them. A minute passed in silence.
“It’s no good, Mr Carrados,” he said, when he was able to speak; “I can’t meet it. Say what you like, I simply can’t tell those chaps that I’ve lost everything we had and ask them to send me more. They couldn’t do it if I did. Understand, sir. The mine is a valuable one; we have the greatest faith in it, but it has gone beyond our depth. The three of us have put everything we own into it. While I am here they are doing labourers’ work for a wage, just to keep going ... waiting, oh, my God! waiting for good news from me!”
Carrados walked round the table to his desk and wrote. Then, without a word, he held out a paper to his visitor.
“What’s this?” demanded Draycott, in bewilderment. “It’s—it’s a cheque for a hundred pounds.”
“It will carry you on,” explained Carrados imperturbably. “A man like you isn’t going to throw up the sponge for this set-back. Cable to your partners that you require copies of all the papers at once. They’ll manage it, never fear. The gold ... must go. Write fully by the next mail. Tell them everything and add that in spite of all you feel that you are nearer success than ever.”
Mr Draycott folded the cheque with thoughtful deliberation and put it carefully away in his pocket-book.
“I don’t know whether you’ve guessed as much, sir,” he said in a queer voice, “but I think that you’ve saved a man’s life to-day. It’s not the money, it’s the encouragement ... and faith. If you could see you’d know better than I can say how I feel about it.”
Carrados laughed quietly. It always amused him to have people explain how much more he would learn if he had eyes.
“Then we’ll go on to Lucas Street and give the manager the shock of his life,” was all he said. “Come, Mr Draycott, I have already rung up the car.”