“I hope not, Trethick,” said Mr Penwynn, smiling, “but time tries all.”
“Oh, no!” said Geoffrey, sharply. “That’s an old saw, and I put no faith in saws. Time will try me, Mr Penwynn; there’s no doubt of that. And now I’m off.”
“It’s close upon one o’clock,” said Mr Penwynn, glancing at his watch. “You’ll stay and have lunch?”
“No, thanks,” said Geoffrey; “I’m going to work off some of this rust. But how am I to let you know how I am getting on?”
“Don’t you trouble about that,” said Mr Penwynn, laughing. “You don’t know Carnac yet. Why, every step you take will be known all over the place, and people will be asking what madman is finding the money.”
“I see,” said Geoffrey, nodding.
“Give me a written report when you have done. Mr Chynoweth shall send you a cheque-book, and your cheques will be honoured to the sum I name.”
Geoffrey looked him full in the eyes for a moment or two longer, and then strode off, Rhoda, who was at the window, seeing him pass, evidently deeply intent upon something, for he paid no heed to her, but made straight for Horton mine to see Pengelly, while Mr Penwynn walked up and down his study with a satisfied air, as if he considered that he had done a good morning’s work.
“He’s the right man,” he said, rubbing his hands. “He’s as true as steel!”
Putting on his hat, he walked down to the office, he knew not why, but taking a deeper interest in the affair each moment, and passing Tregenna on the opposite side of the way.