It is a long drive from Paddington to the Mart, and when he reached the place and had seen in which room the sale was to take place, he ran up to find another sale going on. Wheal Carnac had been up nearly an hour before.
After a little searching he found the auctioneer.
“Wheal Carnac was bought in, I suppose?” said Geoffrey, carelessly.
“No, sir, not this time,” said the auctioneer. “That mine’s an old friend here, but it has found a purchaser once more.”
“Did it make much?” said Geoffrey, hoarsely.
“Went for a song. Not half the value of the machinery.”
Geoffrey bit his lip.
“Who bought it?”
“Can’t say, sir. Or, stop a moment. Yes, of course,” he said, referring to his books. “It is a firm of solicitors. Agents for the real purchaser, I suppose.”
Geoffrey obtained the name of the firm of solicitors, found it was in Serjeant’s Inn, and went straight there, asked for the principal, and was shown in.