It was with this gentleman that his morning had been spent; that he had now, half-after one o'clock, just come home from. Come home with the weary look in his face, and the more than weary pain at his heart.
"And what is the result, sir?" asked Thomas Hill as they sat down together.
"The result is, that Fosbrook will wait a few days, Hill three or four, he says. Perhaps that may be made five or six: I don't know. After that--if he is not satisfied by tangible proofs that things are right and not wrong, so far as he is concerned--there will be no further waiting."
"And the storm must burst."
"The storm must burst," echoed Peter Castlemaine.
"Oh but, sir, my dear master, what can be done in those few poor days?" cried Thomas Hill, in agitation. "Nothing. You must have more time allowed you."
"I had much ado to get that much, Hill. I had to LIE for it," he added, in a low tone.
"Do you see a chance yourself, sir?"
"Only one. There is a chance; but it is a very remote one. That last venture of mine has turned up trumps: I had the news by the mail this morning: and if I can realize the funds in time, the present danger may be averted."
"And the future trouble also," spoke Thomas Hill, catching eagerly at the straw of hope. "Why, sir, that will bring you in a mine of wealth."