The White Virgin. Fenn George Manville
Precious little for me there.”
“Then what is going to be done?”
“They are going to set to work directly. My brother has laid his reports before the board. I did not tell you that he has discovered a new untouched lode that promises to yield wonderfully.”
“Indeed!” said Wrigley – “a new lode?” and he looked searchingly at his companion.
“Yes; an important vein of ore that promises to be of immense value.”
“Hah! that sounds well,” said Wrigley.
“For the shareholders?”
“No; for us. Have you forgotten?”
“No,” said Jessop gloomily, “but will it work?”
“Work? You, an old hand, and ask that. My dear Jessop, if we cannot work that between us it is strange.”
“Yes, but the money necessary. It will be enormous.”
“Pretty well, my dear boy,” said Wrigley, with quiet confidence; “but don’t you fidget about that. Millions are to be had for a safe thing, so we need not be scared about thousands. Yes; that new vein will do. Jessop, my lad, you and I must work that vein. The idea of the great lode is glorious and makes our task easy in that direction; but there is a stumbling-block elsewhere – a difficulty in the way.”
“I don’t understand you,” said Jessop testily. “Hang it, man! Don’t be so mysterious. Now then, please, what do you mean?”
“Let me take my own pace, my dear Jessop, as the inventor of our fortune.”
“Anyhow you like, but let me see how we are going.”
“Well, then, you shall. Now, then, we want an enemy. Clive Reed’s or your father’s enemy. Has your brother any?”
“Yes; here he is, confound him!”
“And you will not do, my dear boy! Besides, it would not be your work. I meant some man who dislikes him so consumedly that he would not stick at trifles for the sake of revenge – and hard cash. What is more,” continued Wrigley, as Jessop shook his head, “it must be some one connected with the mine.”
“Bah! How can it be, when the mine is not started?”
“Then it must be as soon as possible after the mine has been started. Some workman under him in a position of trust, whom he has injured: struck him, taken his wife or sweetheart, mortally injured in some way.”
Jessop burst into a coarse laugh, and Wrigley looked at him inquiringly.
“My dear boy,” said the stockbroker, “I thought this was to be a matter of finessing and making a few thousands.”
“It is, and of making a good many thousands.”
“And you talk as if it were a plot for an Adelphi drama. My dear fellow, my brother Clive is a sort of nineteenth-century saint – not the cad in a play. Clive doesn’t drink, bet, nor gamble in any way. He is a good boy, who is engaged, and goes to church regularly with the lady.”
“Oh, yes; that’s as far as you know now.”
“I do know,” cried Jessop. “Clive has never run away with any one’s wife, nor bullied men, nor gone to the – your friends for coin. If you can’t hit out a better way than that, we may pitch the thing up.”
“At the first difficulty?” said Wrigley, smiling. “No, my boy. We want such a man as I have described – a man whose opinion about the mine will be worth taking. He must, as I say, hate your brother sufficiently to give that opinion when we want it, so as to say check to your brother and be believed.”
“Well, then, there isn’t such a man,” said Jessop sourly.
“Indeed! When do you expect your brother back?”
“At any time now. To-morrow or next day, to meet the directors at the board and report again upon his inspection.”
“Again?”
“Yes; he has been down twice before.”
“Who is down there?”
“Only the man in charge of the mine.”
“Who is he?”
“Some fellow my father got hold of in connection with other mine speculations.”
“Well, wouldn’t he do?”
“Pooh! He is, I should say, out of the question.”
“At a price?”
“At a price!” Jessop started and looked keenly at the solicitor.
“Every man they say has his price, my dear Jessop. We want the kind of man I describe. You say there is no such man. I say there are in the market, and I should say this is the very chap.”
“But surely you would not bribe him to – ”
“Don’t use ugly terms. If I saw my way to make a hundred thousand pounds I should not shrink from giving a man five hundred to help me make it.”
“No, nor a thousand,” said Jessop.
“My dear boy, I would get him for five hundred if I could, but if I could not, I would go higher than you say; in fact, I would go up to ninety-five thousand sooner than lose five. Do you understand?”
“Yes, I understand. Anything to turn an honest penny.”
“Exactly! So now then, as soon as possible, we must begin to feel our way, so as to secure our man.”
“But if there is not such a man to be had?”
“Then we must make one.”
“Wrigley, I thought I was sharp,” said Jessop, with a peculiar smile.
“But you find there is always a sharper.”
“Was that a lapsus linguae, Wrigley?”
“If you like to call it so,” said the lawyer coldly. “But to business. Let me know the moment your brother gets back.”
“Yes, but why?”
“I am going down to see what I think of the mine.”
Chapter Ten.
The Grim Visitor
“The game’s up, then, Doctor, eh? There, man, don’t shuffle. This isn’t whist, but the game of life, and nature wins.”
The Doctor stood holding his old friend’s hand, and gazing sadly down in the fine manly face, which looked wonderfully calm and peaceful as he lay back on the white pillow.
“That’s right; don’t say medical things to me – clap-trap: you never did. We always understand each other, and I shouldn’t like it now I’m dying. For that’s it, Praed; the game’s up. I haven’t read so plainly how many trumps you held in your hand for all these years, old man, without being able to judge your face now.”
“Reed, old fellow,” said the Doctor, in a voice full of emotion, “God knows I have done my best. Let me send for – ”
“Tchah! What for?” said the old man. “You know more than he does. It’s of no use fighting against it. Nature says the works must stop soon. Very well; I shall meet it as I have met other losses in my time. Do you hear, Clive – Jessop?”
A murmur came from the other side of the bed, where the two young men were standing, and then all was still again, save the rumble of a vehicle in the street.
“It’s disappointing just now, when I had made the coup of my life, and meant to settle down in peace; but it wasn’t to be, and I’m going to meet it like a man. Clive, boy, come here.”
The young man came to the bedside and knelt down.
“Ah! I like that,” said the old father. “Good lad!” and he laid his hand gently upon his son’s head. “I’m not a grand old patriarch,” he