"Glad to see you, Ainseley," said Penhallow. "Good morning, Sibley. You will find things moving. Many casting moulds will be ready by this day week."
"Last night," said Sibley, the richer member of the firm, "I had a telegram from Austin, the iron-man. He asks what we would take to transfer our contract. I replied that we did not deal that way with Government contracts. To-day I got this other—read it."
"On what terms will you take me in? My ore, as you know, is not hematite and is better than yours."
Penhallow sat still reading the telegram again and again. Here was an unlooked-for way out of his troubles. At last he looked up, and to their surprise said, "My capital in the business is one hundred and fifty thousand dollars, and you—the firm—pay me a rental of ten thousand."
"Not last year," said Ainseley; "we could not, as you know."
"Yes. Our partnership ends this July 1st. Wire Austin that I will sell him my share and go out. You may ask him what bonus you please—I mean, I will sell to you at one hundred and fifty thousand dollars—the rental will go on, of course."
"My heavens!" cried Sibley, "what do you mean? It is throwing away a fortune, man—a fortune."
Penhallow laughed. "And yet I mean to do it. The work is ready to go on.
You will have ordnance officers here—you won't miss me."
They argued with him in vain. Waldron not altogether dissatisfied sat still, wondering how much bonus Austin would stand, while Ainseley and Sibley troubled for their friend and not well pleased, fought his decision. "Are you fully resolved on this, Penhallow?" said Sibley.
"I am. I cannot take out the small amount of money John Penhallow owns.
It must remain, at least for a time, and will be a convenience to you.
My wife's money is already out. It was only a loan."