“You are not long in giving in a report, Mr Trethick,” said the banker, suspiciously. “May I ask what you know of Wheal Carnac?”
“More than you suppose, sir,” was the reply. “I have been looking about that place a good deal, and I am of opinion that with capital I could make it pay.”
“Oh, yes! so I suppose,” said the banker; “but you are going much too fast, Mr Trethick. What I want to know is whether the mine is worth buying at a price.”
“What price?” exclaimed Geoffrey.
Mr Penwynn hesitated, bit his nails, tapped the table, and looked again and again at his companion’s searching eyes.
“Well,” he said at last—“this is in confidence, Mr Trethick—eight hundred pounds!”
“Why the land’s worth it,” cried Geoffrey; “there can be no doubt about that.”
“Possibly,” said Mr Penwynn.
“The buildings—the material,” cried Geoffrey. “Why really, Mr Penwynn, I could give you a decisive answer at once. The place is worth buying.”
The banker sat gazing at him in a curious, searching way, and he made no reply for a few minutes; but it was evident that he was a little infected by Geoffrey’s enthusiasm.