“2.A.Z. from S.U.S. Reply to your inquiry re mining engineer Halliday, can obtain no knowledge of him here except that he was at Ras Benas two months ago.”
That night Falconer went up to London, and with apparent idleness, he lounged into Bevin’s night club. The place was crowded, and the supper-room full after the theatre. It was not, however, long before he espied the man he sought.
“Hulloa, Farrer!” he cried in warm welcome, and a moment later he bent over the hand of his well-dressed companion, Beryl Hessleton. “Why, I thought you were abroad!” exclaimed Geoffrey.
“Gilbert got back some time ago,” replied Beryl. “He’s had a lovely time in Egypt. I only wish I had been there.”
“Yes,” said the smartly-groomed man in evening clothes, “I really had a tophole time in Cairo. And afterwards I went up the Nile to Assouan. There I met your friend Halliday. He’s found that ancient mine, and I’ve bought it from him. He’s gone to Cuba.”
“Did you buy it?” asked Geoffrey in surprise. “Then I suppose Halliday will soon be back in town again—eh?”
“No, I don’t think so. He’s been engaged by some big firm of American mining engineers to prospect for iron in Cuba, I believe. Anyhow, when we met at the Cataract Hotel, in Assouan, he was full of it. He didn’t seem to think that the mine in Berenice was worth very much—worked out centuries ago, he said. So he sold it to me with the concession—lock, stock, and barrel.”
“And you will re-sell it to a company, I suppose?”
“Perhaps. I don’t quite know yet. I’ve one or two people in the city ready to take it up.”
“But if the mine is worked out, of what use is it?”