Is it all up with us, George?

George Winter.

What the dickens are you talking about?

Etchingham.

They’ve found out the truth. It’s there in black and white that the wretched mine’s worthless.

George Winter.

They can’t prove anything.

Etchingham.

Ever since I knew I’ve scarcely closed my eyes at night. I wish I’d shot myself when you first told me.

George Winter.