“My dear Mr Prawle,” said Geoffrey, “I invited you to cooperate with me, and you declined. Now will you allow me to show you the door. Pengelly, let me hold the lantern for Mr Prawle to see his way. Pray take care, Mr Prawle, and don’t make a mistake about the shaft. It is not fenced in. Your life is valuable, you know. Good-night.”
Geoffrey smilingly held the lantern for the old man to see his way, and Prawle looked at him in a puzzled fashion, as if not knowing what to make of his speech. One moment he seemed disposed to resent it; the next he took it in good part, and, as he got outside, after looking suspiciously from one to the other, he said, hastily, as if ashamed of his weakness,—
“I don’t want to quarrel, but don’t you have nothing to do with this pit. It’s a bad un—a bad un, and has ruined scores. Thanky for helping my Bess.”
The next moment he was gone.
“Pleasant style of man, your father-in-law-to-be, Pengelly,” said Geoffrey, coolly, as he returned with the miner into the engine-house. “What was he doing here?”
“I can’t quite make out, sir,” said Pengelly, thoughtfully. “He always was fond of hanging about here of a night, as if jealous that any one should notice the place.”
“Bit of smuggling—hiding-place?” suggested Geoffrey.
“I’ve thought that sometimes, sir, and sometimes I’ve thought there was another reason. He’s a strange old fellow in his ways.”
“Yes, there’s no doubt about that,” said Geoffrey. “But what have you got there?”
Pengelly had just stooped and picked up a fragment of stone, which glittered as he held it to the lantern.