"It will be a bad thing for him, I am afraid," remarked Werner.
"It will be a bad thing for me, which is matter of much more interest to Bertram Kleinwort," was the answer. "That accursed Benning and thrice-accursed partner of the Christian wolf,—how I wish they were both hanging on a gibbet higher than Haman's, and that I was big man enough to pull their legs!"
Having giving utterance to which Christian desire Mr. Kleinwort departed, leaving even Werner astonished at the tone of deadly hatred he concentrated in one sentence.
"I believe you would do it too, you little devil," he decided. "Well, I will go and tell Forde about the mine, and give him a chance of selling."
But Mr. Forde was not at the wharf.
"He had received a letter by the second post," explained one of the clerks, "which obliged him to start at once for Newcastle."
Mr. Werner smiled. He understood the cause of that sudden journey, but he only said, "I will look round again on Friday."
But when Friday came, it was useless for him to do so. The shares in that especial mine were a drug in the market. Every one was hastening to sell, and no man could be found to buy.
Meantime, however, fortune, which never proves more utterly capricious than when we believe ourselves down for life in her black books, had relented and done Mr. Forde a gracious turn.
On the occasion of that meeting in behalf of the heathen, to which Mr. Forde referred so contemptuously, Samuel Witney, Esq., took the chair, and after various missionaries and others interested in the good work had addressed the assemblage, and votes of thanks had been returned to everybody for something, proposed to his dear brother in religion that, as they must return to their respective homes from the Waterloo Station, they should walk thither together.