“Then you actually own the mine you have been speaking of?” said Jack Howard, regarding Gideon Prawle with a fresh interest.
Had the boy at that moment looked toward the window of the surgery, which had been raised a couple of inches a few moments before by Charlie Fox, he might have noticed that there was an uninvited listener outside.
This eavesdropper was Otis Clymer, late dispensing clerk for Dr. Fox, who had been discharged for his irregular habits and pilfering propensities.
The man had made himself unpopular in Sackville, and, but for the softness of the doctor’s heart, would have long since been sent away.
He had an evil heart, and instead of leaving town, where he could not hope to get suitable employment, he had hung about the lowest drinking resorts in the place and meditated upon revenge.
At this moment he was somewhat under the influence of liquor, and had made his way to the rear of the drugstore for the purpose of setting it on fire if he could find the chance to put his dastardly project into effect.
He was somewhat surprised to find that the little surgery was occupied, and he hung about and listened, hoping the coast would soon be clear.
What he heard through the opening at the bottom of the window, however, completely changed his purpose.
“Yes, siree, bob! I own the ground that there mine is located on,” said Prawle, with his mouth full of food, in answer to Jack Howard’s question. “At least I’ve a sixty-day option on it, which amounts to the same thing.”
“Then you didn’t have the money to buy it out and out?” asked Jack.