“Were you?” I said, feeling very uncomfortable.
“Yes. What’s in the box?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “I thought it was blocks of metal, packed to send away.”
I hesitated before I said metal. I was going to say silver; but I felt, after my father’s words, as if I ought to be cautious.
“I believe I know what’s inside,” said my companion.
“Well, what?” I cried, as I tugged at another screw which refused to go round.
“New tools for the mine.”
“Why, of course!” I exclaimed. “Here: you go on. I can’t manage this screw. How stupid of me not to think of it!”
“There he goes!” said Bigley, giving the screw a good wrench. “How many more are there? I see: these two.”
He attacked them one after the other, talking the while.