"I know nothing of Ames' private affairs," returned Hayden shortly. "How should I?"
"You might have judged that from the way he behaved last night." Penfield again indulged in a series of unpleasant chuckles. "His mother! Lord! There'll be the deuce to pay there! Look at the way she's been behaving over his attentions to Marcia Oldham, and then just fancy how she'll take this! She evidently gave that luncheon the other day to propitiate Marcia, and invited the Mariposa to show the world that Wilfred's so‑called infatuation was merely an amiable and tepid interest. I wouldn't miss seeing the fun for a farm—no, not for all those lost mines of yours. I think that I shall drop in for a cup of tea with the old lady this afternoon, and murmur a few condolences in her ear, and then watch her fly to bits." He rolled about in his chair in paroxysms of silent mirth. "But," sobering, "it's too bad to think of missing the interview between the Mariposa and herself. I really do not know which one I would put my money on." He considered this a moment. "But that isn't the only interesting thing I've gleaned in the day's work." He glanced keenly at Robert through his white lashes, and again the triumph vibrated in his thin voice. "Hayden, do you know I've discovered the owner of your lost mine?"
Robert sat silent a moment, motionless, apparently thinking; his face at least betrayed nothing. "The owners," he corrected.
"No, I don't mean owners at all," returned Penfield coolly, "I mean just what I said—the owner. Ah," the most unctuous satisfaction in his voice, "for all your non‑committal manner I don't believe you know as much as I do."
"Perhaps that's true," said Hayden sharply. "Whom do you mean by the owner?"
"Why, the elderly gray‑haired man with whom Marcia Oldham is seen more or less," affirmed Horace, self‑gratulations in his tone. What if his field was petty? He did not consider it so, and his feats were great.
Hayden dropped the hand with which he had been shielding his eyes and stared at the gossip on the other side of the hearth. "What on earth are you talking about?" he demanded.
"I'm giving you facts, straight facts, dear boy," replied Horace, his pale eyes shining through his white lashes.
"But—but—"
"Oh, there's no 'but—but' about it." Horace was consummately assured. "That man is the owner of your lost mine, so go ahead and dicker with him. I know. You can take my word for it."