“Do I think I could dive down among the breakers with a ginger-beer cork and a bit o’ wire, and stop up the hole? No, I don’t, sir. That mine—the richest nearly in all Cornwall—is dead, and killed by one man out o’ spite.”
Vores caught Gwyn’s eye, gave him a peculiar look, and tapped his forehead; but Hardock caught the movement.
“Oh no, I arn’t, Harry Vores. I’m no more cracked than you are; but I won’t quarrel, for you and your wife have been very good to me, and you did a brave thing when you come down that hole and got us out.”
“Yah!” cried Vores, “such stuff. Why, anyone would have done it. You would for me. There, I don’t mean you’re mad—only that you’ve got that crook in your mind about Tom Dinass. Well, it’s a blessing the poor fellow had neither wife nor child to break their hearts about him.”
Chapter Fifty Two.
The General Wind-Up.
The days wore on, and the Colonel and Major shook their heads at Sam Hardock when he made his accusation as to the cause of the catastrophe; while the captain went about afterward in an aggrieved way, for he could get no one to believe in his ideas. The Colonel and his partner took the advice of an expert, and in a short time it was announced that no effort would be made to pump the mine dry, a few hours’ trial by way of test proving that the water could not be lowered an inch.
The work-people were all liberally paid off, and began to disperse, finding work at different mines; and after several consultations, the Colonel and his old brother officer being quite of the same mind, an interview was held with a well-known auctioneer, and the whole of the machinery was announced for sale.