“My game? Oh, that’s soon said. I want to make a hundred pounds commission on the sale, and get an account against the vendors for another fifty.”
“Do you think there is any thing in that man’s words?”
“Heaven knows,” said Tregenna; “but if they are true, the place, instead of being worth eight hundred pounds, would be worth more than as many thousands.”
Mr Penwynn thrust his hands very deeply into his pockets and whistled softly, as he gazed searchingly at the other. For, though Tregenna had thrown some hundreds latterly in his way, he was still upon his guard.
“I should estimate the land and foreshore as being worth the money,” said Tregenna. “There’s a good deal of it, and the building material in squared granite is worth a trifle. There’s plenty to build a couple of good houses.”
“Ah! you want to make that hundred and fifty pounds, Tregenna.”
“Yes, I do, certainly; but I don’t think the buyer could be much out of pocket unless he began mining on his own account. Of that I wash my hands. By the way, though, that would not make a bad building site.”
“Too exposed,” said Mr Penwynn, thoughtfully.
“Well, yes, it is exposed, certainly.”
“What do they want for it?”