"Nothing much," was the response. "Look here, Pengelly, we'll have to throw dust in the eyes of the shareholders. Can we run to another five per cent.?"
"It will cut into our capital."
"It'll have to," decided Trevorrick. "We'll declare a half-yearly dividend. On the strength of that we might apply for extra capital. And another thing: you'd better run across to Penzance within the next few days and sound your pal, Port—What's his name?"
"Porthoustoc—Silas Porthoustoc."
"That's the fellow. We'll want him and his lugger. He's sound, isn't he?"
"Do anything," replied Pengelly. "If he were put to it, he'd be a second King o' Prussia.[1] Nod's as good as a wink to him—at his price."
"I wouldn't let him know too much," suggested Trevorrick. "At least, not at first. Once I get him in my power sufficiently, I can put a half-nelson over him in double-quick time. Then he daren't open his mouth—price or no price."
Pengelly eyed his companion dubiously.
"You're not going to try that game on me, I hope?" he asked.
Trevorrick brought his huge hand heavily down on his partner's shoulder.