'You are very much interested in him.'
'My dear cousin, I am very much interested in the mine, and I am very much interested in you. Mr. Kenyon can speak of nothing but the mine, and I am sure my father would be pleased to see you take an interest in something of the sort. I mean, you know that if you would do something of your own accordsomething that was not suggested to you by himhe would like it.'
'Well, it is suggested to me by you, and that's almost the same thing.'
'No, it is not the same thing at all. Father would indeed be glad if he saw you take up anything on your own account and make a success of it. Why can you not spend some of your time talking with Mr. Kenyon discussing arrangements, so that when you return to London you might be prepared to put the mine on the market and bring out the company?'
'If I thought you were talking to me for my own sake, I would do what you suggest; but I believe you are speaking only because you are interested in Kenyon.'
'Nonsense! How can you be so absurd? I have known Mr. Kenyon but for a few hoursa day or two at most.'
The young man pulled his moustache for a moment, adjusted his eyeglass, and then said:
'Very good. I will speak to Kenyon on the subject if you wish it, but I don't say that I can help him.'
'I don't ask you to help him. I ask you to help yourself. Here is Mr. Kenyon. Let me introduce you, and then you can talk over the project at your leisure.'
'I don't suppose an introduction is necessary,' growled the young man; but as Kenyon approached them, Edith Longworth said:
'We are a board of directors, Mr. Kenyon, on the great mica-mine. Will you join the Board now, or after allotment?' Then, before he could reply, she said: 'Mr. Kenyon, this is my cousin, Mr. William Longworth.'
Longworth, without rising from his chair, shook hands in rather a surly fashion.
'I am going to speak to my father,' said the girl, 'and will leave you to talk over the mica-mine.'
When she had gone, young Longworth asked Kenyon:
'Where is the mine my cousin speaks of?'
'It is near the Ottawa River, in Canada,' was the answer.
'And what do you expect to sell it for?'
'Fifty thousand pounds.'
'Fifty thousand pounds! That will leave nothing to divide up amongby the way, how many are there in this thingyourself alone?'
'No; my friend Wentworth shares with me.'
'Share and share alike?'
'Yes.'
'Of course, you think this mine is worth the money you ask for itthere is no swindle about it, is there?'
Kenyon drew himself up sharply as this remark was made. Then he answered coldly:
'If there was any swindle about it, I should have nothing to do with it.'
'Well, you see, I didn't know; mining swindles are not such rarities as you may imagine. If the mine is so valuable, why are the proprietors anxious to sell?'
'The owners are in Austria, and the mine in Canada, and so it is rather at arm's-length, as it were. They are mining for mica, but the mine is more valuable in other respects than it is as a mica property. They have placed a figure on the mine which is more than it has cost them so far.'
'You know its value in those other respects?'
'I do.'
'Does anyone know this except yourself?'
'I think notno one but my friend Wentworth.'
'How did you come to learn its value?'
'By visiting the mine. Wentworth and I went together to see it.'
'Oh, is Wentworth also a mining expert?'
'No; he is an accountant in London.'
'Both of you were sent out by the London Syndicate, I understand, to look after their mines, or the mines they thought of purchasing, were you not?'
'We were.'
'And you spent your time in looking up other properties for yourselves, did you?'
Kenyon reddened at this question.
'My dear sir,' he said, 'if you are going to talk in this strain, you will have to excuse me. We were sent by the London Syndicate to do a certain thing. We did it, and did it thoroughly. After it was done the time was our own, as much as it is at the present moment. We were not hired by the day, but took a stated sum for doing a certain piece of work. I may go further and say that the time was our own at any period of our visit, so long as we fulfilled what the London Syndicate required of us.'
'Oh, I meant no offence,' said Longworth. 'You merely seemed to be posing as a sort of goody-goody young man when I spoke of mining swindles, so I only wished to startle you. How much have you to pay for the minethat is the mica-mine?'
Kenyon hesitated for a moment.
'I do not feel at liberty to mention the sum until I have consulted with my friend Wentworth.'
'Well, you see, if I am to help you in this matter, I shall need to know every particular.'
'Certainly. I shall have to consult Wentworth as to whether we require any help or not.'
'Oh, you will speedily find that you require all the help you can get in London. You will probably learn that a hundred such mines are for sale now, and the chances are you will find that this very mica-mine has been offered. What do you believe the mine is really worth?'
'I think it is worth anywhere from one hundred thousand pounds to two hundred thousand pounds, perhaps more.'
'Is it actually worth one hundred thousand pounds?'
'According to my estimate, it is.'
'Is it worth one hundred and fifty thousand pounds?'
'It is.'
'Is it worth two hundred thousand pounds?'
'I think so.'
'What percentage would it pay on two hundred thousand pounds?'
'It might pay ten per cent., perhaps more.'
'Why, in the name of all that is wonderful, don't you put the price at two hundred thousand pounds? If it will pay ten per cent and more on that amount of money, then that sum is what you ought to sell it for. Now we will investigate this matter, if you like, and if you wish to take me in with you, and put the price up to two hundred thousand pounds, I will see what can be done about it when we get to London. Of course, it will mean somebody going out to Canada again to report on the mine. Your report would naturally not be taken in such a case; you are too vitally interested.'
'Of course,' replied Kenyon, 'I shouldn't expect my report to have any weight.'
'Well, somebody would have to be sent out to report on the mine. Are you certain that it will stand thorough investigation?'
'I am convinced of it.'
'Would you be willing to make this proposition to the investors, that, if the expert did not support your statement, you would pay his expenses out there and back?'
'I would be willing to do that,' said Kenyon, 'if I had the money; but I haven't the money.'
'Then, how do you expect to float the mine on the London market? It cannot be done without money.'
'I thought I might be able to interest some capitalist.'
'I am much afraid, Mr. Kenyon, that you have vague ideas of how companies are formed. Perhaps your friend Wentworth, being an accountant, may know more about it.'
'Yes, I confess I am relying mainly on his assistance.'
'Well, will you agree to put the price of the mine at two hundred thousand pounds, and share what we make equally between the three of us?'
'It is a large price.'
'It is not a large price if the mine will pay good dividends upon it; if it will pay eight per cent. on that amount, it is the real price of the mine, while you say that you are certain it will pay ten per cent.'
'I say I think it will pay that percentage. One never can speak with entire certainty where a mine is concerned.'
'Are you willing to put the price of the mine at that figure? Otherwise, I will have nothing to do with it.'
'As I said, I shall have to consult my friend about it, but that can be done in a very short time, and I will answer you in the afternoon.'
'As I said, I shall have to consult my friend about it, but that can be done in a very short time, and I will answer you in the afternoon.'
'Good; there is no particular hurry. Have a talk over it with him, and while I do not promise anything, I think the scheme looks feasible, if the property is good. Remember, I know nothing at all about that, but if you agree to take me in, I shall have to know full particulars of what you are going to pay for the property, and what its peculiar value is.'
'Certainly. If we agree to take a partner, we will give that partner our full confidence.'
'Well, there is nothing more to say until you have had a consultation with your friend. Good-morning, Mr. Kenyon;' and with that Longworth arose and lounged off to the smoking-room.
Kenyon waited where he was for some time, hoping Wentworth would come along, but the young man did not appear. At last he went in search of him. He passed along the deck, but found no trace of his friend, and looked for a moment into the smoking-room, but Wentworth was not there. He went downstairs to the saloon, but his search below was equally fruitless. Coming up on deck again, he saw Miss Brewster sitting alone reading a paper-covered novel.
'Have you seen my friend Wentworth?' he asked.
She laid the book open-faced upon her lap, and looked quickly up at Kenyon before answering.
'I saw him not so very long ago, but I don't know where he is now. Perhaps you will find him in his state-room; in fact, I think it more than likely that he is there.'
With that, Miss Brewster resumed her book.
Kenyon descended to the state-room, opened the door, and saw his comrade sitting upon the plush-covered sofa, with his head in his hands. At the opening of the door, Wentworth started and looked for a moment at his friend, apparently not seeing him. His face was so gray and ghastly that Kenyon leaned against the door for support as he saw it.
'My God, George!' he cried, 'what is the matter with you? What has happened? Tell me!'
Wentworth gazed in front of him with glassy eyes for a moment, but did not answer. Then his head dropped again in his hands, and he groaned aloud.
CHAPTER VIII
There was one man on board the Caloric to whom Wentworth had taken an extreme dislike. His name was Fleming, and he claimed to be a New York politician. As none of his friends or enemies asserted anything worse about him, it may be assumed that Fleming had designated his occupation correctly. If Wentworth were asked what he most disliked about the man, he would probably have said his offensive familiarity. Fleming seemed to think himself a genial good fellow, and he was immensely popular with a certain class in the smoking-room. He was lavishly free with his invitations to drink, and always had a case of good cigars in his pocket, which he bestowed with great liberality. He had the habit of slapping a man boisterously on the back, and saying, 'Well, old fellow, how are you? How's things?' He usually confided to his listeners that he was a self-made man: had landed at New York without a cent in his pocket, and look at him now!
Wentworth was icy towards this man; but frigidity had no effect whatever on the exuberant spirits of the New York politician.
'Well, old man!' cried Fleming to Wentworth, as he came up to the latter and linked arms affectionately. 'What lovely weather we are having for winter time!'
'It is good,' said Wentworth.
'Good? It's glorious! Who would have thought, when leaving New York in a snowstorm as we did, that we would run right into the heart of spring? I hope you are enjoying your voyage?'
'I am.'
'You ought to. By the way, why are you so awful stand-offish? Is it natural, or merely put on "for this occasion only"?'
'I do not know what you mean by "stand-offish."'
'You know very well what I mean. Why do you pretend to be so stiff and formal with a fellow?'
'I am never stiff and formal with anyone unless I do not desire his acquaintance.'
Fleming laughed loudly.
'I suppose that's a personal hint. Well, it seems to me, if this exclusiveness is genuine, that you would be more afraid of newspaper notoriety than of anything else.'
'Why do you say that?'
'Because I can't, for the life of me, see why you spend so much time with Dolly Dimple. I am sure I don't know why she is here; but I do know this: that you will be served up to the extent of two or three columns in the Sunday Argus as sure as you live.'
'I don't understand you.'
'You don't? Why, it's plain enough. You spend all your time with her.'
'I do not even know of whom you are speaking.'
'Oh, come now, that's too rich! Is it possible you don't know that Miss Jennie Brewster is the one who writes those Sunday articles over the signature of "Dolly Dimple"?'
A strange fear fell upon Wentworth as his companion mentioned the Argus. He remembered it as J.K. Rivers' paper; but when Fleming said Miss Brewster was a correspondent of the Argus, he was aghast.
'III don't think I quite catch your meaning,' he stammered.
'Well, my meaning's easy enough to see. Hasn't she ever told you? Then it shows she wants to do you up on toast. You're not an English politician, are you? You haven't any political secrets that Dolly wants to get at, have you? Why, she is the greatest girl there is in the whole United States for finding out just what a man doesn't want to have known. You know the Secretary of State'and here Fleming went on to relate a wonderfully brilliant feat of Dolly's; but the person to whom he was talking had neither eyes nor ears. He heard nothing and he saw nothing.
'Dear me!' said Fleming, drawing himself up and slapping the other on the back, 'you look perfectly dumfounded. I suppose I oughtn't to have given Dolly away like this; but she has pretended all along that she didn't know me, and so I've got even with her. You take my advice, and anything you don't want to see in print, don't tell Miss Brewster, that's all. Have a cigar?'
'No, thank you,' replied the other mechanically.
'Better come in and have a drink.'
'No, thank you.'
'Well, so long. I'll see you later.'
'It can't be trueit can't be true!' Wentworth repeated to himself in deep consternation, but still an inward misgiving warned him that, after all, it might be true. With his hands clasped behind him he walked up and down, trying to collect himselftrying to remember what he had told and what he had not. As he walked along, heeding nobody, a sweet voice from one of the chairs thrilled him, and he paused.
'Why, Mr. Wentworth, what is the matter with you this morning? You look as if you had seen a ghost.'
Wentworth glanced at the young woman seated in the chair, who was gazing up brightly at him.
'Well,' he said at last, 'I am not sure but I have seen a ghost. May I sit down beside you?'
'May you? Why, of course you may. I shall be delighted to have you. Is there anything wrong?'
'I don't know. Yes, I think there is.'
'Well, tell it to me; perhaps I can help you. A woman's wit, you know. What is the trouble?'
'May I ask you a few questions, Miss Brewster?'
'Certainly. A thousand of them, if you like, and I will answer them all if I can.'
'Thank you. Will you tell me, Miss Brewster, if you are connected with any newspaper?'
Miss Brewster laughed her merry, silvery little laugh.
'Who told you? Ah! I see how it is. It was that creature Fleming. I'll get even with him for this some day. I know what office he is after, and the next time he wants a good notice from the Argus he'll get it; see if he don't. I know some things about him that he would just as soon not see in print. Why, what a fool the man is! I suppose he told you out of revenge because I wouldn't speak to him the other evening. Never mind; I can afford to wait.'