“But it was a fortune; it was a great fortune,” cried the old man, stamping with rage.
“No, no,” cried Geoffrey. “You might perhaps have made a little by it, or we might perhaps have hit upon some plan to get at the tin; but it was doubtful.”
“You’re a fool,” cried the old man, furiously.
“A terrible fool,” said Geoffrey, coolly.
“You don’t know,” stuttered old Prawle, who was beside himself with rage; “you don’t know, I tell you. Not half-way down that pit I could show you veins of copper so rich that your tin you found was not worth half.”
“What?” cried Geoffrey, staring at the old man to see if he were sane.
“She’s full of copper, Trethick. Do you think I would have spent money unless I was sure? She’s worth no end of money, and you’ve thrown away what would have been a great fortune for you as well as me.”
“But the copper? Are you sure?” cried Geoffrey, hoarsely.
“Am I sure?” cried the old man. “Didn’t I work in her for years? Of course I know.”
“Then why did you not say so before?” cried Geoffrey, angrily.