“Pretty well, my dear boy,” said Wrigley, with quiet confidence; “but don’t you fidget about that. Millions are to be had for a safe thing, so we need not be scared about thousands. Yes; that new vein will do. Jessop, my lad, you and I must work that vein. The idea of the great lode is glorious and makes our task easy in that direction; but there is a stumbling-block elsewhere—a difficulty in the way.”
“I don’t understand you,” said Jessop testily. “Hang it, man! Don’t be so mysterious. Now then, please, what do you mean?”
“Let me take my own pace, my dear Jessop, as the inventor of our fortune.”
“Anyhow you like, but let me see how we are going.”
“Well, then, you shall. Now, then, we want an enemy. Clive Reed’s or your father’s enemy. Has your brother any?”
“Yes; here he is, confound him!”
“And you will not do, my dear boy! Besides, it would not be your work. I meant some man who dislikes him so consumedly that he would not stick at trifles for the sake of revenge—and hard cash. What is more,” continued Wrigley, as Jessop shook his head, “it must be some one connected with the mine.”
“Bah! How can it be, when the mine is not started?”
“Then it must be as soon as possible after the mine has been started. Some workman under him in a position of trust, whom he has injured: struck him, taken his wife or sweetheart, mortally injured in some way.”
Jessop burst into a coarse laugh, and Wrigley looked at him inquiringly.