“Of course,” said the old man. “They were told to be. He did not want it known.”
“How do you know?” said Geoffrey.
“Because I told them.”
“Then you know who bought the mine?”
“Well, yes, of course. It was I.”
Geoffrey’s cigar dropped from his hand, and he sank back, staring.
“Do you know what you have done?” he cried.
“Yes, made a fool of myself, I suppose; but I thought I’d have it, and you shall realise all you can for me out of the place. I got it very cheaply. Perhaps I shall build a house there—if I live.”
“Build! House!” cried Geoffrey. “Why, if old Prawle is right, the mine is rich in copper to a wonderful extent.”
“And the water?”