The days which followed had many anxious moments for the three speculators in New York.
“I do most devoutly hope this business won’t land us in State’s prison,” murmured the less courageous Marble.
“What nonsense. We have not made any incriminating statement in writing.”
“True, but you forget your letter to the manager of the mine. Won’t that show conspiracy?”
“That is all right,” was Gilbey’s airy rejoinder; “the manager is under my thumb.”
“By the way,” continued the tranquil Gilbey, “did you notice that Gaskell had the ninety days’ option which you gave him made to himself personally, and not as representing the syndicate?”
“Yes,” replied Oswald, “I noticed it. He would not take the responsibility of spending the syndicate’s money in making investigations which the members had not ordered. If he approves the property he will recommend it to his syndicate.”
A soft, sweet, childlike smile crept over the faces of the precious three as they separated.
A fortnight later Mr. Gilbey presented to his delighted associates the following dispatch from Gaskell, dated San Francisco:
“I approve of the mine optioned, subject to some amendment in price, and start East to-night.