A WOMAN INTERVENES

 BY

 ROBERT BARR

AUTHOR OF

'IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS, ' 'IN A STEAMER CHAIR, ' 'FROM WHOSE BOURNE, 'ETC. 

WITH EIGHT ILLUSTRATIONS BY HAL HURST

1896

TO

MY FRIEND

HORACE HART

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 

'I HAD NO INTENTION OF INSULTING YOU' _Frontispiece_

WENTWORTH SHOWED HER HOW TO TURN IT ROUND

MISS JENNIE ALLOWED HIM TO ADJUST THE WRAPS AROUND HER

'OH, YES! YOU WILL STAY, ' CRIED THE OTHER

SHE WALKED ALONE UP AND DOWN THE PROMENADE

SHE SPRANG SUDDENLY TO HER FEET

'YOU HAVE A PRODIGIOUS HEAD FOR BUSINESS'

EDITH LONGWORTH HAD SAT DOWN BESIDE HIM

CHAPTER I. 

The managing editor of the _New York Argus_ sat at his desk with a deepfrown on his face, looking out from under his shaggy eyebrows at theyoung man who had just thrown a huge fur overcoat on the back of onechair, while he sat down himself on another. 

'I got your telegram, ' began the editor. 'Am I to understand from it thatyou have failed?'

'Yes, sir, ' answered the young man, without the slightest hesitation. 

'Completely?'

'Utterly. '

'Didn't you even get a synopsis of the documents?'

'Not a hanged synop. '

The editor's frown grew deeper. The ends of his fingers drummed nervouslyon the desk. 

'You take failure rather jauntily, it strikes me, ' he said at last. 

'What's the use of taking it any other way? I have the consciousness ofknowing that I did my best. '

'Um, yes. It's a great consolation, no doubt, but it doesn't count inthe newspaper business. What did you do?'

'I received your telegram at Montreal, and at once left for BurntPine--most outlandish spot on earth. I found that Kenyon andWentworth were staying at the only hotel in the place. Tried to wormout of them what their reports were to be. They were very polite, butI didn't succeed. Then I tried to bribe them, and they ordered me outof the room. '

'Perhaps you didn't offer them enough. '

'I offered double what the London Syndicate was to pay them for makingthe report, taking their own word for the amount. I couldn't offer more, because at that point they closed the discussion by ordering me out ofthe room. I tried to get the papers that night, on the quiet, out ofWentworth's valise, but was unfortunately interrupted. The young menwere suspicious, and next morning they left for Ottawa to post thereports, as I gathered afterwards, to England. I succeeded in gettinghold of the reports, but I couldn't hang on. There are too many policein Ottawa to suit me. '

'Do you mean to tell me, ' said the editor, 'that you actually had thereports in your hands, and that they were taken from you?'

'Certainly I had; and as to their being taken from me, it was either thator gaol. They don't mince matters in Canada as they do in the UnitedStates, you know. '

'But I should think a man of your shrewdness would have been able to getat least a synopsis of the reports before letting them out of hispossession. '

'My dear sir, ' said the reporter, rather angry, 'the whole thing coveredI forget how many pages of foolscap paper, and was the most mixed-upmatter I ever saw in my life. I tried--I sat in my room at the hotel, anddid my best to master the details. It was full of technicalities, and Icouldn't make it out. It required a mining expert to get the hang oftheir phrases and figures, so I thought the best thing to do was totelegraph it all straight through to New York. I knew it would cost a lotof money, but I knew, also, you didn't mind that; and I thought, perhaps, somebody here could make sense out of what baffled me; besides, I wantedto get the documents out of my possession just as quickly as possible. '

'Hem!' said the editor. 'You took no notes whatever?'

'No, I did not. I had no time. I knew the moment they missed thedocuments they would have the detectives on my track. As it was, I wasarrested when I entered the telegraph-office. '

'Well, it seems to me, ' said the managing editor, 'if I had once had thepapers in my hand, I should not have let them go until I had got the gistof what was in them. '

'Oh, it's all very well for you to say so, ' replied the reporter, withthe free and easy manner in which an American newspaper man talks to hisemployer; 'but I can tell you, with a Canadian gaol facing a man, it ishard to decide what is best to do. I couldn't get out of the town forthree hours, and before the end of that time they would have had mydescription in the hands of every policeman in the place. They knew wellenough who took the papers, so my only hope lay in getting the thingtelegraphed through; and if that had been accomplished, everything wouldhave been all right. I would have gone to gaol with pleasure if I hadgot the particulars through to New York. '

'Well, what are we to do now?' asked the editor. 

'I'm sure I don't know. The two men will be in New York very shortly. They sail, I understand, on the _Caloric_, which leaves in a week. If youthink you have a reporter who can get the particulars out of these men, Ishould be very pleased to see you set him on. I tell you it isn't so easyto discover what an Englishman doesn't want you to know. '

'Well, ' said the editor, 'perhaps that's true. I will think about it. Ofcourse you did your best, and I appreciate your efforts; but I am sorryyou failed. '

'You are not half so sorry as I am, ' said Rivers, as he picked up his bigCanadian fur coat and took his leave. 

The editor did think about it. He thought for fully two minutes. Then hedashed off a note on a sheet of paper, pulled down the little knob thatrang the District Messenger alarm, and when the uniformed boy appeared, gave him the note, saying:

'Deliver this as quickly as you can. '

The boy disappeared, and the result of his trip was soon apparent in thearrival of a very natty young woman in the editorial rooms. She wasdressed in a neatly-fitting tailor-made costume, and was a very prettygirl, who looked about nineteen, but was, in reality, somewhat older. Shehad large, appealing blue eyes, with a tender, trustful expression inthem, which made the ordinary man say: 'What a sweet, innocent look thatgirl has!' yet, what the young woman didn't know about New York was notworth knowing. She boasted that she could get State secrets fromdignified members of the Cabinet, and an ordinary Senator or Congressmanshe looked upon as her lawful prey. That which had been told her in thestrictest confidence had often become the sensation of the next day inthe paper she represented. She wrote over a _nom de guerre_, and hadtried her hand at nearly everything. She had answered advertisements, exposed rogues and swindlers, and had gone to a hotel as chambermaid, inorder to write her experiences. She had been arrested and locked up, sothat she might write a three-column account, for the Sunday edition ofthe _Argus_, of 'How Women are Treated at Police Headquarters. ' Theeditor looked upon her as one of the most valuable members of his staff, and she was paid accordingly. 

She came into the room with the self-possessed air of the owner of thebuilding, took a seat, after nodding to the editor, and said, 'Well?'

'Look here, Jennie, ' began that austere individual, 'do you wish to takea trip to Europe?'

'That depends, ' said Jennie; 'this is not just the time of year thatpeople go to Europe for pleasure, you know. '

'Well, this is not exactly a pleasure trip. The truth of the matter is, Rivers has been on a job and has bungled it fearfully, besides nearlygetting himself arrested. '

The young woman's eyes twinkled. She liked anything with a spice ofdanger in it, and did not object to hear that she was expected to succeedwhere a mere masculine reporter had failed. 

The editor continued:

'Two young men are going across to England on the _Caloric_. It sails ina week. I want you to take a ticket for Liverpool by that boat, andobtain from either of those two men the particulars--the _full_particulars--of reports they have made on some mining properties inCanada. Then you must land at Queenstown and cable a complete account tothe _Argus_. '

'Mining isn't much in my line, ' said Miss Jennie, with a frown on herpretty brow. 'What sort of mines were they dealing with--gold, silver, copper, or what?'

'They are certain mines on the Ottawa River. '

'That's rather indefinite. '

'I know it is. I can't give you much information about the matter. Idon't know myself, to tell the truth, but I know it is vitally importantthat we should get a synopsis of what the reports of these young men areto be. A company, called the London Syndicate, has been formed inEngland. This syndicate is to acquire a large number of mines in Canada, if the accounts given by the present owners are anything like correct. Two men, Kenyon and Wentworth--the first a mining engineer, and thesecond an experienced accountant--have been sent from London to Canada, one to examine the mines, the other to examine the books of the variouscorporations. Whether the mines are bought or not will depend a good dealon the reports these two men have in their possession. The reports, whenpublished, will make a big difference, one way or the other, on the StockExchange. I want to have the gist of them before the London Syndicatesees them. It will be a big thing for the _Argus_ if it is the first inthe field, and I am willing to spend a pile of hard cash to succeed. So, don't economize on your cable expenses. '

'Very well; have you a book on Canadian mines?'

'I don't know that we have; but there is a book here, "The MiningResources of Canada;" will that be of any use?'

'I shall need something of that sort. I want to be a little familiar withthe subject, you know. '

'Quite so, ' said the editor; 'I will see what can be got in that line. You can read it before you start, and on the way over. '

'All right, ' said Miss Jennie; 'and am I to take my pick of the twoyoung men?'

'Certainly, ' answered the editor. 'You will see them both, and can easilymake up your mind which will the sooner fall a victim. '

'The _Caloric_ sails in a week, does it?'

'Yes. '

'Then I shall need at least five hundred dollars to get new dresseswith. '

'Good gracious!' cried the editor. 

'There is no "good gracious" about it. I'm going to travel as amillionaire's daughter, and it isn't likely that one or two dresses willdo me all the way over. '

'But you can't get new dresses made in a week, ' said the editor. 

'Can't I? Well, you just get me the five hundred dollars, and I'll seeabout the making. '

The editor jotted the amount down. 

'You don't think four hundred dollars would do?' he said. 

'No, I don't. And, say, am I to get a trip to Paris after this is over, or must I come directly back?'

'Oh, I guess we can throw in the trip to Paris, ' said the editor. 

'What did you say the names of the young men are?--or are they notyoung? Probably they are old fogies, if they are in the mining business. '

'No; they are young, they are shrewd, and they are English. So you seeyour work is cut out for you. Their names are George Wentworth andJohn Kenyon. '

'Oh, Wentworth is my man, ' said the young woman breezily. 'John Kenyon! Iknow just what sort of a person he is--sombre and taciturn. Sounds toomuch like John Bunyan, or John Milton, or names of that sort. '

'Well, I wouldn't be too sure about it until you see them. Better notmake up your mind about the matter. '

'When shall I call for the five hundred dollars?'

'Oh, that you needn't trouble about. The better way is to get yourdresses made, and tell the people to send the bills to our office. '

'Very well, ' said the young woman. 'I shall be ready. Don't be frightenedat the bills when they come in. If they come up to a thousand dollars, remember I told you I would let you off for five hundred dollars. '

The editor looked at her for a moment, and seemed to reflect thatperhaps it was better not to give a young lady unlimited credit in NewYork. So he said:

'Wait a bit; I'll write you out the order, and you can take itdownstairs. '

Miss Jennie took the paper when it was offered to her, and disappeared. When she presented the order in the business office, the cashier raisedhis eyebrows as he noticed the amount, and, with a low whistle, said tohimself:

'Five hundred dollars! I wonder what game Jennie Brewster's up to now. '

CHAPTER II. 

The last bell had rung. Those who were going ashore had taken theirdeparture. Crowds of human beings clustered on the pier-head, and at thelarge doorways of the warehouse which stood open on the steamer wharf. Asthe big ship slowly backed out there was a fluttering of handkerchiefsfrom the mass on the pier, and an answering flutter from those whocrowded along the bulwarks of the steamer. The tug slowly pulled the prowof the vessel round, and at last the engines of the steamship began theirpulsating throbs--throbs that would vibrate night and day until thesteamer reached an older civilization. The crowd on the pier became moreand more indistinct to those on board, and many of the passengers wentbelow, for the air was bitterly cold, and the boat was forcing its waydown the bay among huge blocks of ice. 

Two, at least, of the passengers had taken little interest in thedeparture. They were leaving no friends behind them, and were bothsetting their faces toward friends at home. 

'Let us go down, ' said Wentworth to Kenyon, 'and see that we get seatstogether at table before all are taken. '

'Very good, ' replied his companion, and they descended to the roomysaloon, where two long tables were already laid with an ostentatiousdisplay of silver, glassware, and cutlery, which made many, who looked onthis wilderness of white linen with something like dismay, hope that thevoyage would be smooth, although, as it was a winter passage, there wasevery chance it would not be. The purser and two of his assistants satat one of the shorter tables with a plan before them, marking off thenames of passengers who wished to be together, or who wanted someparticular place at any of the tables. The smaller side-tables were stilluncovered because the number of passengers at that season of the year wascomparatively few. As the places were assigned, one of the helpers to thepurser wrote the names of the passengers on small cards, and the otherput the cards on the tables. 

One young woman, in a beautifully-fitting travelling gown, which wasevidently of the newest cut and design, stood a little apart from thegeneral group which surrounded the purser and his assistants. She eagerlyscanned every face, and listened attentively to the names given. Sometimes a shade of disappointment crossed her brow, as if she expectedsome particular person to possess some particular name which thatparticular person did not bear. At last her eyes sparkled. 

'My name is Wentworth, ' said the young man whose turn it was. 

'Ah! any favourite place, Mr. Wentworth?' asked the purser blandly, as ifhe had known Wentworth all his life. 

'No, we don't care where we sit; but my friend Mr. Kenyon and myselfwould like places together. '

'Very good; you had better come to my table, ' replied the purser. 'Numbers 23 and 24--Mr. Kenyon and Mr. Wentworth. '

The steward took the cards that were given him, and placed them tocorrespond with the numbers the purser had named. Then the young womanmoved gracefully along, as if she were interested in the names upon thetable. She looked at Wentworth's name for a moment, and saw in the placenext to his the name of Mr. Brown. She gave a quick, apprehensive glancearound the saloon, and observed the two young men who had arranged fortheir seats at table now walking leisurely toward the companion-way. Shetook the card with the name of Mr. Brown upon it, and slipped upon thetable another on which were written the words 'Miss Jennie Brewster. ' Mr. Brown's card she placed on the spot from which she had taken her own. 

'I hope Mr. Brown is not particular which place he occupies, ' said Jennieto herself; 'but at any rate I shall see that I am early for dinner, andI'm sure Mr. Brown, whoever he is, will not be so ungallant as to insiston having this place if he knows his card was here. '

Subsequent events proved her surmise regarding Mr. Brown's indifferenceto be perfectly well founded. That young man searched for his card, foundit, and sat down on the chair opposite the young woman, who alreadyoccupied her chair, and was, in fact, the first one at table. Seeingthere would be no unseemly dispute about places, she began to plan in herown mind how she would first attract the attention of Mr. Wentworth. While thinking how best to approach her victim, Jennie heard his voice. 

'Here you are, Kenyon; here are our places. '

'Which is mine?' said the voice of Kenyon. 

'It doesn't matter, ' answered Wentworth, and then a thrill of fear wentthrough the gentle heart of Miss Jennie Brewster. She had not thought ofthe young man not caring which seat he occupied, and she dreaded thepossibility of finding herself next to Kenyon rather than Wentworth. Herfirst estimate of the characters of the two men seemed to be correct. Shealways thought of Kenyon as Bunyan, and she felt certain that Wentworthwould be the easier man of the two to influence. The next moment herfears were allayed, for Kenyon, giving a rapid glance at the handsomeyoung woman, deliberately chose the seat farthest from her, andWentworth, with 'I beg your pardon, ' slipped in and sat down on the chairbeside her. 

'Now, ' thought Jennie, with a sigh of relief, 'our positions are fixedfor the meals of the voyage. ' She had made her plans for beginning anacquaintance with the young man, but they were rendered unnecessary bythe polite Mr. Wentworth handing her the bill of fare. 

'Oh, thank you, ' said the girl, in a low voice, which was so musical thatWentworth glanced at her a second time and saw how sweet and pretty andinnocent she was. 

'I'm in luck, ' said the unfortunate young man to himself. Then heremarked aloud: 'We have not many ladies with us this voyage. '

'No, ' replied Miss Brewster; 'I suppose nobody crosses at this time ofthe year unless compelled to. '

'I can answer for two passengers that such is the case. '

'Do you mean yourself as one?'

'Yes, myself and my friend. '

'How pleasant it must be, ' said Miss Brewster, 'to travel with a friend!Then one is not lonely. I, unfortunately, am travelling alone. '

'I fancy, ' said the gallant Wentworth, 'that if you are lonely while onboard ship, it will be entirely your own fault. '

Miss Brewster laughed a silvery little laugh. 

'I don't know about that, ' she said. 'I am going to that Mecca of allAmericans--Paris. My father is to meet me there, and we are then going onto the Riviera together. '

'Ah, that will be very pleasant, ' said Wentworth. 'The Riviera at thisseason is certainly a place to be desired. '

'So I have heard, ' she replied. 

'Have you not been across before?'

'No, this is my first trip. I suppose you have crossed many times?'

'Oh no, ' answered the Englishman; 'this is only my second voyage, myfirst having been the one that took me to America. '

'Ah, then you are not an American, ' returned Miss Brewster, withapparent surprise. 

She imagined that a man is generally flattered when a mistake of thiskind is made. No matter how proud he may be of his country, he is pleasedto learn that there is no provincialism about him which, as the Americanssay, 'gives him away. '

'I think, ' said Wentworth, 'as a general thing, I am not taken foranything but what I am--an Englishman. '

'I have met so few Englishmen, ' said the guileless young woman, 'thatreally I should not be expected to know. '

'I understand it is a common delusion among Americans that everyEnglishman drops his "h's, " and is to be detected in that way. '

Jennie laughed again, and George Wentworth thought it one of theprettiest laughs he had ever heard. 

Poor Kenyon was rather neglected by his friend during the dinner. He felta little gloomy while the courses went on, and wished he had an eveningpaper. Meanwhile, Wentworth and the handsome girl beside him got on verywell together. At the end of the dinner she seemed to have somedifficulty in getting up from her chair, and Wentworth showed her how toturn it round, leaving her free to rise. She thanked him prettily. 

'I am going on deck, ' she said, turning to go; 'I am so anxious to get myfirst glimpse of the ocean at night from the deck of a steamer. '

'I hope you will let me accompany you, ' returned young Wentworth. 'Thedecks are rather slippery, and even when the boat is not rolling itisn't quite safe for a lady unused to the motion of a ship to walk alonein the dark. '

'Oh, thank you very much, ' replied Miss Brewster, with effusion. 'Itis kind of you, I am sure; and if you promise not to let me rob youof the pleasure of your after-dinner cigar, I shall be most happy tohave you accompany me. I will meet you at the top of the stairway infive minutes. '

'You are getting on, ' said Kenyon, as the young woman disappeared. 

'What's the use of being on board ship, ' said Wentworth, 'If you don'ttake advantage of the opportunity for making shipboard acquaintances?There is an unconventionality about life on a steamer that is not withoutits charm, as perhaps you will find out before the voyage is over, John. '

'You are merely trying to ease your conscience because of your heartlessdesertion of me. '

George Wentworth had waited at the top of the companion-way a little morethan five minutes when Miss Brewster appeared, wrapped in a cloak edgedwith fur, which lent an additional charm to her complexion, set off as itwas by a jaunty steamer cap. They stepped out on the deck, and found itnot at all so dark as they had expected. Little globes of electric lightwere placed at regular intervals on the walls of the deck building. Overhead was stretched a sort of canvas roof, against which the sleetyrain pattered. One of the sailors, with a rubber mop, was pushing intothe gutter by the side of the ship the moisture from the deck. All aroundthe boat the night was as black as ink, except here and there where thewhite curl of a wave showed luminous for a moment in the darkness. 

Miss Brewster insisted that Wentworth should light his cigar, which, after some persuasion, he did. Then he tucked her hand snugly under hisarm, and she adjusted her step to suit his. They had the promenade all tothemselves. The rainy winter night was not so inviting to most of thepassengers as the comfortable rooms below. Kenyon, however, and one ortwo others came up, and sat on the steamer chairs that were tied to thebrass rod which ran along the deckhouse wall. He saw the glow ofWentworth's cigar as the couple turned at the farther end of the walk, and when they passed him he heard a low murmur of conversation, andcaught now and then a snatch of silvery laughter. It was not becauseWentworth had deserted him that Kenyon felt so uncomfortable anddepressed. He could not tell just what it was, but there had settled onhis mind a strange, uneasy foreboding. After a time he went down into thesaloon and tried to read, but could not, and so wandered along theseemingly endless narrow passage to his room (which was Wentworth's aswell), and, in nautical phrase, 'turned in. ' It was late when hiscompanion came. 

'Asleep, Kenyon?' asked the latter. 

'No, ' was the answer. 

'By George! John, she is one of the most charming girls I ever met. Wonderfully clever, too; makes a man feel like a fool beside her. She hasread nearly everything. Has opinions on all our authors, a great many ofwhom I've never heard of. I wish, for your sake, John, she had a sisteron board. '

'Thanks, old man; awfully good of you, I'm sure, ' said Kenyon. 'Don'tyou think it's about time to stop raving, get into your bunk, and turnout that confounded light?'

'All right, growler, I will. '

Meanwhile, in her own state-room, Miss Jennie Brewster was looking at herreflection in the glass. As she shook out her long hair until it rippleddown her back, she smiled sweetly, and said to herself:

'Poor Mr. Wentworth! Only the first night out, and he told me his namewas George. '

CHAPTER III. 

The second day out was a pleasant surprise for all on board who had madeup their minds to a disagreeable winter passage. The air was clear, thesky blue as if it were spring-time, instead of midwinter. They were inthe Gulf Stream. The sun shone brightly and the temperature was mild. Nevertheless, it was an uncomfortable day for those who were poorsailors. Although there did not seem, to the casual observer, to be muchof a sea running, the ship rolled atrociously. Those who had made heroicresolutions on the subject were sitting in silent misery in theirdeck-chairs, which had been lashed to firm stanchions. Few were walkingthe clean bright deck, because walking that morning was a gymnastic feat. Three or four who evidently wished to show they had crossed before, andknew all about it, managed to make their way along the deck. Thoserecumbent in the steamer-chairs watched with lazy interest thepedestrians who now and then stood still, leaning apparently far out ofthe perpendicular, as the deck inclined downward. Sometimes thepedestrian's feet slipped, and he shot swiftly down the incline. Such anincident was invariably welcomed by those who sat. Even the invalidssmiled wanly. 

Kenyon reclined in his deck-chair with his eyes fixed on the blue sky. His mind was at rest about the syndicate report now that it had beenmailed to London. His thoughts wandered to his own affairs, and hewondered whether he would make money out of the option he had acquired atOttawa. He was not an optimistic man, and he doubted. 

After their work for the London Syndicate was finished, the young men haddone a little business on their own account. They visited together amica-mine that was barely paying expenses, and which the proprietors wereanxious to sell. The mine was owned by the Austrian Mining Company, whose agent, Von Brent, was interviewed by Kenyon in Ottawa. The youngmen obtained an option on this mine for three months from Von Brent. Kenyon's educated eye had told him that the white mineral they wereplacing on the dump at the mouth of the mine was even more valuable thanthe mica for which they were mining. 

Kenyon was scrupulously honest--a quality somewhat at a discount in themining business--and it seemed to him hardly the fair thing that heshould take advantage of the ignorance of Von Brent regarding the mineralon the dump. Wentworth had some trouble in overcoming his friend'sscruples. He claimed that knowledge always had to be paid for, in law, medicine, or mineralogy, and therefore that they were perfectly justifiedin profiting by their superior wisdom. So it came about that the youngmen took to England with them a three months' option on the mine. 

Wentworth had been walking about all morning like a lost spiritapparently seeking what was not. 'It can't be, ' he said to himself. No;the thought was too horrible, and he dismissed it from his mind, merelyconjecturing that perhaps she was not an early riser, which was indeedthe case. No one who works on a morning newspaper ever takes advantage ofthe lark's example. 

'Well, Kenyon, ' said Wentworth 'you look as if you were writing a poem, or doing something that required deep mental agony. '

'The writing of poems, my dear Wentworth, I leave to you. I am doingsomething infinitely more practical--something that you ought to be at. I am thinking what we are to do with our mica-mine when we get it overto London. '

'Oh, "sufficient for the day is the evil thereof, "' cried Wentworthjauntily; 'besides, half an hour's thinking by a solid-brained fellowlike you is worth a whole voyage of my deepest meditation. '

'She hasn't appeared yet?' said Kenyon. 

'No, dear boy; no, she has _not_. You see, I make no pretence with you asother less ingenuous men might. No, she has _not_ appeared, and she hasnot breakfasted. '

'Perhaps----' began Kenyon. 

'No, no!' cried Wentworth; 'I'll have no "perhaps. " I thought of that, butI instantly dismissed the idea. She's too good a sailor. '

'It requires a very good sailor to stand this sort of thing. It looks sounnecessary, too. I wonder what the ship is rolling about?'

'I can't tell, but she seems to be rolling about half over. I say, Kenyon, old fellow, I feel horrible pangs of conscience aboutdeserting you in this way, and so early in the voyage. I didn't do itlast time, did I?'

'You were a model travelling companion on the last voyage, ' returnedKenyon. 

'I don't wish to make impertinent suggestions, my boy, but allow me totell you that there are some other very nice girls on board. '

'You are not so bad as I feared, then, ' replied Kenyon, 'or you wouldn'tadmit that. I thought you had eyes for no one but Miss--Miss--I reallydidn't catch her name. '

'I don't mind telling you confidentially, Kenyon, that her name isJennie. '

'Dear me!' cried Kenyon, 'has it got so far as that? Doesn't it strikeyou, Wentworth, that you are somewhat in a hurry? It seems decidedlymore American than English. Englishmen are apt to weigh matters alittle more. '

'There is no necessity for weighing, my boy. I don't see any harm inmaking the acquaintance of a pretty girl when you have a long voyagebefore you. '

'Well, I wouldn't let it grow too serious, if I were you. '

'There isn't the slightest danger of seriousness about the affair. Onshore the young lady wouldn't cast a second look at me. She is thedaughter of a millionaire. Her father is in Paris, and they are going onto the Riviera in a few weeks. '

'All the more reason, ' said Kenyon, 'that you shouldn't let this go toofar. Be on your guard, my boy. I've heard it said that American girlshave the delightful little practice of leading a man on until it comes toa certain point, and then arching their pretty eyebrows, lookingastonished, and forgetting all about him afterwards. You had better waituntil we make our fortunes on this mica-mine, and then, perhaps, yourfair millionairess may listen to you. '

'John, ' cried Wentworth, 'you are the most cold-blooded man I know of. Inever noticed it so particularly before, but it seems to me that yearsand years of acquaintance with minerals of all kinds, hard and flinty, transform a man. Be careful that you don't become like the minerals youwork among. '

'Well, I don't know anything that has less tendency to soften a man thanlong columns of figures. I think the figures you work at are quite asdemoralizing as the minerals I have spent my life with. '

'Perhaps you are right, but a girl would have to be thrown into yourarms before you would admit that such a thing as a charming young ladyexisted. '

'If I make all the money I hope to make out of the mica-mine, I expectthe young ladies will not be thrown into my arms, but at my head. Moneygoes a long way toward reconciling a girl to marriage. '

'It certainly goes a long way toward reconciling her mother to themarriage. I don't believe, ' said Wentworth slowly, 'that my--that MissBrewster ever thinks about money. '

'She probably doesn't need to, but no doubt there is someone who does thethinking for her. If her father is a millionaire, and has, like manyAmericans, made his own money, you may depend upon it he will do thethinking for her; and if Miss Brewster should prove to be thoughtless inthe matter, the old gentleman will very speedily bring you both to yoursenses. It would be different if you had a title. '

'I haven't any, ' replied Wentworth, 'except the title George Wentworth, accountant, with an address in the City and rooms in the suburbs. '

'Precisely; if you were Lord George Wentworth, or even Sir George, orBaron Wentworth of something or other, you might have a chance; as it is, the title of accountant would not go far with an American millionaire, orhis daughter either. '

'You are a cold, calculating wretch. '

'Nothing of the sort. I merely have my senses about me, and you haven'tat this particular moment. You wouldn't think of trusting a book-keeper'sfigures without seeing his vouchers. Well, my boy, you haven't thevouchers--at least, not yet, so that is why I ask you to give yourattention to what we are going to do with our mine; and if you take myadvice you will not think seriously about American millionaires or theirdaughters. '

George Wentworth jumped to his feet, the ship gave a lurch at thatparticular moment, and he no sooner found his feet than he nearly lostthem again; however, he was an expert at balancing himself as well as hisaccounts, and though for the moment his attention was occupied in keepinghis equilibrium, he looked down on his companion, still placidlyreclining in his chair, with a smile on his face. 

'Kenyon, ' he said, 'I am going to look for another girl. '

'Is one not enough for you?'

'No, I want two--one for myself, and one for you. No man can sympathizewith another unless he is in the same position himself. John, I wantsympathy, and I'm not getting it. '

'What you need more urgently, ' said Kenyon calmly, 'is common-sense, andthat I am trying to supply. '

'You are doing your duty in that direction; but a man doesn't live bycommon-sense alone. There comes a time when common-sense is a drug inthe market. I don't say it has come to me yet, but I'm resolved to getyou into a more sympathetic mood, so I am going to find a suitable younglady for you. '

'More probably you are going to look for your own, ' answered Kenyon, ashis friend walked off, and, disappearing round the corner, crossed tothe other side of the ship. 

Kenyon did not turn again to his figures when his companion left him. Hemused over the curiously rapid turn of circumstances. He hoped Wentworthwould not take it too seriously, for he felt that, somehow or other, MissBrewster was just the sort of girl to throw him over after she had whiledaway a tedious voyage. Of course he could not say this to his friend, whoevidently admired Miss Brewster, but he had said as much as he could toput Wentworth on his guard. 

'Now, ' said Kenyon to himself, 'if she had been a girl like _that_, Iwouldn't have minded. ' The girl 'like _that_' was a young woman who forhalf an hour had been walking the deck alone with marvellous skill. Shewas not so handsome as the American girl, but she had a bettercomplexion, and there was a colour in her cheek which seemed to suggestEngland. Her dress was not quite so smart nor so well-fitting as that ofthe American girl; but, nevertheless, she was warmly and sensibly clad, and a brown Tam o' Shanter covered her fair head. The tips of her handswere in the pockets of her short blue-cloth jacket; and she walked thedeck with a firm, reliant tread that aroused the admiration of JohnKenyon. 'If she were only a girl like _that_, ' he repeated to himself, 'Iwouldn't mind. There's something fresh and genuine about her. She makesme think of the breezy English downs. '

As she walked back and forward, one or two young men seemingly made anattempt to become acquainted with her, but it was evident to Kenyon thatthe young woman had made it plain to them, politely enough, that shepreferred walking alone, and they raised their sea-caps and left her. 

'She doesn't pick up the first man who comes, ' he mused. 

The ship was beginning to roll more and more, and yet the day wasbeautiful and the sea seemingly calm. Most of the promenaders had leftthe deck. Two or three of them had maintained their equilibrium with agratifying success which engendered the pride that goeth before a fall, but the moment came at last when their feet slipped and they had foundthemselves thrown against the bulwark of the steamer. Then they hadlaughed a little in a crestfallen manner, picked themselves up, andpromenaded the deck no more. Many of those who were lying in thesteamer-chairs gave up the struggle and went down to their cabins. Therewas a momentary excitement as one chair broke from its fastenings andslid down with a crash against the bulwarks. The occupant was picked upin a hysterical condition and taken below. The deck steward tied thechair more firmly, so that the accident would not happen again. The youngEnglish girl was opposite John Kenyon when this disaster took place, andher attention being diverted by fear for the safety of the occupant ofthe sliding chair, her care for herself was withdrawn at the very momentwhen it was most needed. The succeeding lurch which the ship gave to theother side was the most tremendous of the day. The deck rose until thegirl leaning outward could almost touch it with her hand, then, in spiteof herself, she slipped with the rapidity of lightning against the chairJohn Kenyon occupied, and that tripping her up, flung her upon him withan unexpectedness that would have taken his breath away if the suddenlanding of a plump young woman upon him had not accomplished the samething. The fragile deck-chair gave way with a crash, and it would be hardto say which was the more discomfited by the sudden catastrophe, JohnKenyon or the girl. 

'I hope you are not hurt, ' he managed to stammer. 

'Don't think about me!' she cried. 'I have broken your chair, and--and----'

'The chair doesn't matter, ' cried Kenyon. 'It was a flimsy structure atbest. I am not hurt, if that is what you mean--and you mustn't mind it. '

Then there came to his recollection the sentence of George Wentworth: 'Agirl will have to be thrown into your arms before you will admit thatsuch a thing as a charming young woman exists. '

CHAPTER IV. 

Edith Longworth could hardly be said to be a typical representative ofthe English girl. She had the English girl's education, but not hertraining. She had lost her mother in early life, which makes a greatdifference in a girl's bringing up, however wealthy her father may be;and Edith's father was wealthy, there was no doubt of that. If you askedany City man about the standing of John Longworth, you would learn thatthe 'house' was well thought of. People said he was lucky, but old JohnLongworth asserted that there was no such thing as luck in business--inwhich statement he was very likely incorrect. He had large investments inalmost every quarter of the globe. When he went into any enterprise, hewent into it thoroughly. Men talk about the inadvisability of putting allone's eggs into one basket, but John Longworth was a believer in doingthat very thing--and in watching the basket. Not that he had all his eggsin one basket, or even in one kind of basket; but when John Longworth wassatisfied with the particular variety of basket presented to him, he puta large number of eggs in it. When anything was offered forinvestment--whether it was a mine or a brewery or a railway--JohnLongworth took an expert's opinion upon it, and then the chances werethat he would disregard the advice given. He was in the habit of goingpersonally to see what had been offered to him. If the enterprise werebig enough, he thought little of taking a voyage to the other end of theworld for the sole purpose of looking the investment over. It was truethat in many cases he knew nothing whatever of the business he went toexamine, but that did not matter; he liked to have a personal inspectionwhere a large amount of his money was to be placed. Investment seemed tobe a sort of intuition with him. Often, when the experts' opinions wereunanimously in favour of the project, and when everything appeared to beperfectly safe, Longworth would pay a personal visit to the businessoffered for sale, and come to a sudden conclusion not to have anything todo with it. He would give no reasons to his colleagues for his change offront; he simply refused to entertain the proposal any further, andwithdrew. Several instances of this kind had occurred. Sometimes a largeand profitable business, held out in the prospectus to be exceedinglydesirable, had come to nothing, and when the company was wound up, people remembered what Longworth had said about it. So there came to be acertain superstitious feeling among those who knew him, that, if old Mr. Longworth was in a thing, the thing was safe, and if a company promotermanaged to get his name on the prospectus, his project was almost certainto succeed. 

 * * * * *

When Edith Longworth was pronounced finished so far as education wasconcerned, she became more and more the companion of her father, and heoften jokingly referred to her as his man of business. She went with himon his long journeys, and so had been several times to America, once tothe Cape, and one long voyage, with Australia as the objective point, hadtaken her completely round the world. She inherited much of her father'sshrewdness, and there is no doubt that, if Edith Longworth had been castupon her own resources, she would have become an excellent woman ofbusiness. She knew exactly the extent of her father's investments, andshe was his confidante in a way that few women are with their malerelatives. The old man had a great faith in Edith's opinion, although herarely acknowledged it. Having been together so much on such long trips, they naturally became, in a way, boon companions. Thus, Edith's educationwas very unlike that of the ordinary English girl, and this particulartraining caused her to develop into a different kind of woman than shemight have been had her mother lived. 

Perfect confidence existed between father and daughter, and only latelyhad there come a shadow upon their relations, about which neither everspoke to the other since their first conversation on the subject. 

Edith had said, with perhaps more than her usual outspokenness, that shehad no thought whatever of marriage, and least of all had her thoughtsturned toward the man her father seemed to have chosen. In answer tothis, her father had said nothing, but Edith knew him too well to believethat he had changed his mind about the matter. The fact that he hadinvited her cousin to join them on this particular journey showed herthat he evidently believed all that was necessary was to throw them moretogether than had been the case previously; and, although Edith wassilent, she thought her father had not the same shrewdness in thesematters that he showed in the purchasing of a growing business. Edith hadbeen perfectly civil to the young man--as she would have been toanyone--but he saw that she preferred her own company to his; and so, much to the disgust of Mr. Longworth, he spent most of his time at cardsin the smoking-room, whereas, according to the elder gentleman's opinion, he should have been promenading the deck with his cousin. 

William Longworth, the cousin, was inclined to be a trifle put out, forhe looked upon himself as quite an eligible person, one whom any girl inher senses would be glad to look forward to as a possible husband. Hemade no pretence of being madly in love with Edith, but he thought themarriage would be an admirable thing all round. She was a nice girl, hesaid to himself, and his uncle's money was well worth thinking about. Infact, he was becoming desirous that the marriage should take place; but, as there was no one upon whom he could look as a rival, he had the fieldto himself. He would therefore show Miss Edith that he was by no meansentirely dependent for his happiness upon her company; and this heproceeded to do by spending his time in the smoking-room, and playingcards with his fellow-passengers. It was quite evident to anyone who sawEdith, that, if this suited him, it certainly suited her; so they rarelymet on shipboard except at table, where Edith's place was between herfather and her cousin. Miss Longworth and her cousin had had one briefconversation on the subject of marriage. He spoke of it rather jauntily, as being quite a good arrangement, but she said very shortly that she hadno desire to change her name. 

'You don't need to, ' said Cousin William; 'my name is Longworth, and sois yours. '

'It is not a subject for a joke, ' she answered. 

'I am not joking, my dear Edith. I am merely telling you what everybodyknows to be true. You surely don't deny that my name is Longworth?'

'I don't mean to deny or affirm anything in relation to the matter, 'replied the young woman, 'and you will oblige me very much if you willnever recur to this subject again. '

And so the young man betook himself once more to the smoking-room. 

On this trip Edith had seen a good deal of American society. People overthere had made it very pleasant for her, and, although the weather wassomewhat trying, she had greatly enjoyed the sleigh-rides and thedifferent festivities which winter brings to the citizen of NorthernAmerica. Her father and her cousin had gone to America to see numerousbreweries that were situated in different parts of the country, andwhich it was proposed to combine into one large company. They had made aWestern city their headquarters, and while Edith was enjoying herselfwith her newly-found friends, the two men had visited the breweries indifferent sections of the country--all, however, near the city whereEdith was staying. The breweries seemed to be in a very prosperouscondition, although the young man declared the beer they brewed was thevilest he had ever tasted, and he said he wouldn't like to have anythingto do with the production of it, even if it did turn in money. His unclehad not tried the beer, but confined himself solely to the good oldbottled English ale, which had increased in price, if not in excellence, by its transportation. But there was something about the combinationthat did not please him; and, from the few words he dropped on thesubject, his nephew saw that Longworth was not going to be a member ofthe big Beer Syndicate. The intention had been to take a trip to Canada, and Edith had some hopes of seeing the city of Montreal in its winterdress; but that visit had been abandoned, as so much time had beenconsumed in the Western States. So they began their homeward voyage, with the elder Longworth sitting a good deal in his deck-chair, andyoung Longworth spending much of his time in the smoking-room, whileEdith walked the deck alone. And this was the lady whom Fate threw intothe arms of John Kenyon. 

CHAPTER V. 

Steamer friendships ripen quickly. It is true that, as a general thing, they perish with equal suddenness. The moment a man sets his foot onsolid land the glamour of the sea seems to leave him, and the friend towhom he was ready to swear eternal fealty while treading the deck, isspeedily forgotten on shore. Edith Longworth gave no thought to thesubject of the innocent nature of steamer friendships when she reviewedin her own mind her pleasant walk along the deck with Kenyon. She had metmany interesting people during her numerous voyages, but they had allproved to be steamer acquaintances, whose names she had now considerabledifficulty in remembering. Perhaps she would not have given a secondthought to Mr. Kenyon that night if it had not been for someill-considered remarks her cousin saw fit to make at the dinner-table. 

'Who was that fellow you were walking with today?' young Longworth asked. 

Edith smiled upon him pleasantly, and answered:

'Mr. Kenyon you mean, I suppose?'

'Oh, you know his name, do you?' he answered gruffly. 

'Certainly, ' she replied; 'I would not walk with a gentleman whose name Idid not know. '

'Really?' sneered her cousin. 'And pray were you introduced to him?'

'I do not think, ' answered Edith quietly, 'any person has a right to askme that question except my father. He has not asked it, and, as you have, I will merely answer that I _was_ introduced to Mr. Kenyon. '

'I did not know you had any mutual acquaintance on board who could makeyou known to each other. '

'Well, the ceremony was a little informal. We were introduced by ourmutual friend, old Father Neptune. Father Neptune, being, as you know, alittle boisterous this morning, took the liberty of flinging me upon Mr. Kenyon. I weigh something more than a feather, and the resultwas--although Mr. Kenyon was good enough to say he was uninjured--thatthe chair on which he sat had not the same consideration for my feelings, and it went down with a crash. I thought Mr. Kenyon should take my chairin exchange for the one I had the misfortune to break, but Mr. Kenyonthought otherwise. He said he was a mining engineer, and that he couldnot claim to be a very good one if he found any difficulty in mending adeck-chair. It seems he succeeded in doing so, and that is the wholehistory of my introduction to, and my intercourse with, Mr. Kenyon, Mining Engineer. '

'Most interesting and romantic, ' replied the young man; 'and do you thinkthat your father approves of your picking up indiscriminate acquaintancesin this way?'

Edith, flushing a little at this, said:

'I would not willingly do what my father disapproved of;' then in a lowervoice she added: 'except, perhaps, one thing. '

Her father, who had caught snatches of the conversation, now leanedacross towards his nephew, and said warningly:

'I think Edith is quite capable of judging for herself. This is myseventh voyage with her, and I have always found such to be the case. This happens to be your first, and so, were I you, I would not pursue thesubject further. '

The young man was silent, and Edith gave her father a grateful glance. Thus it was that, while she might not have given a thought to Kenyon, theremarks which her cousin had made, brought to her mind, when she wasalone, the two young men, and the contrast between them was not at all tothe advantage of her cousin. 

The scrubbing-brushes on the deck above him woke Kenyon early nextmorning. For a few moments after getting on deck he thought he had theship to himself. One side of the deck was clean and wet; on the otherside the men were slowly moving the scrubbing-brushes backward andforward, with a drowsy swish-swish. As he walked up the deck, he sawthere was one passenger who had been earlier than himself. 

Edith Longworth turned round as she heard his step, and her facebrightened into a smile when she saw who it was. 

Kenyon gravely raised his steamer cap and bade her 'Good-morning. '

'You are an early riser, Mr. Kenyon. '

'Not so early as you are, I see. '

'I think I am an exceptional passenger in that way, ' replied the girl. 'Ialways enjoy the early morning at sea. I like to get as far forward onthe steamer as possible, so that there is nothing between me and theboundless anywhere. Then it seems as if the world belongs to myself, withnobody else in it. '

'Isn't that a rather selfish view?' put in Kenyon. 

'Oh, I don't think so. There is certainly nothing selfish in myenjoyment of it; but, you know, there are times when one wishes to bealone, and to forget everybody. '

'I hope I have not stumbled upon one of those times. '

'Oh, not at all, Mr. Kenyon, ' replied his companion, laughing. 'Therewas nothing personal in the remark. If I wished to be alone, I wouldhave no hesitation in walking off. I am not given to hinting; I speakplainly--some of my friends think a little too plainly. Have you everbeen on the Pacific Ocean?'

'Never. '

'Ah, there the mornings are delicious. It is very beautiful here now, butin summer on the Pacific some of the mornings are so calm and peacefuland fresh, that it would seem as if the world had been newly made. '

'You have travelled a great deal, Miss Longworth. I envy you. '

'I often think I am a person to be envied, but there may come a shipwreckone day, and then I shall not be in so enviable a position. '

'I sincerely hope you may never have such an experience. '

'Have you ever been shipwrecked, Mr. Kenyon?'

'Oh no; my travelling experiences are very limited. But to read of ashipwreck is bad enough. '

'We have had a most delightful voyage so far. Quite like summer. One canscarcely believe that we left America in the depth of winter, with snoweverywhere and the thermometer ever so far below zero. Have you mendedyour deck-chair yet, sufficiently well to trust yourself upon it again?'

'Oh!' said Kenyon, with a laugh, 'you really must not make fun of myamateur carpentering like that. As I told you, I am a mining engineer, and if I cannot mend a deck-chair, what would you expect me to do with amine?'

'Have you had much to do with mines?' asked the young woman. 

'I am just beginning, ' replied Kenyon; 'this, in fact, is one of my firstcommissions. I have been sent with my friend Wentworth to examine certainmines on the Ottawa River. '

'The Ottawa River!' cried Edith. 'Are you one of those who were sent outby the London Syndicate?'

'Yes, ' answered Kenyon with astonishment. 'What do you know about it?'

'Oh, I know everything about it. Everything, except what the miningexpert's report is to be, and that information, I suppose, you have; so, between the two of us, we know a great deal about the fortunes of theLondon Syndicate. '

'Really! I am astonished to meet a young lady who knows anything aboutthe matter. I understood it was rather a secret combination up to thepresent. '

'Ah! but, you see, I am one of the syndicate. '

'You!'

'Certainly, ' answered Edith Longworth, laughing. 'At least, my father is, and that is the same thing, or almost the same thing. We intended to goto Canada ourselves, and I was very much disappointed at not going. Iunderstand that the sleighing, and the snowshoeing, and the tobogganingare something wonderful. '

'I saw very little of the social side of life in the district, my wholetime being employed at the mines; but even in the mining village where westayed, they had a snowshoe club, and a very good toboggan slide--sogood, in fact, that, having gone down once, I never ventured to risk mylife on it again. '

'If my father knew you were on board, he would be anxious to meet you. Doubtless you know the London Syndicate will be a very large company. '

'Yes, I am aware of that. '

'And you know that a great deal is going to depend upon your report?'

'I suppose that is so, and I hope the syndicate will find my report atleast an honest and thorough one. '

'Is the colleague who was with you also on board?'

'Yes, he is here. '

'He, then, was the accountant who was sent out?'

'Yes, and he is a man who does his business very thoroughly, and I thinkthe syndicate will be satisfied with his work. '

'And do you not think they will be satisfied with yours also? I am sureyou did your work conscientiously. '

Kenyon almost blushed as the young woman made this remark, but she lookedintently at him, and he saw that her thoughts were not on him, but on thelarge interests he represented. 

'Were you favourably impressed with the Ottawa as a mining region?' sheasked. 

'Very much so, ' he answered, and, anxious to turn the conversation awayfrom his own report, he said: 'I was so much impressed with it that Isecured the option of a mine there for myself. '

'Oh! do you intend to buy one of the mines there?'

Kenyon laughed. 

'No, I am no capitalist seeking investment for my money, but I saw thatthe mine contained possibilities of producing a great deal of money forthose who possess it. It is very much more valuable, in my opinion, thanthe owners themselves suspect; so I secured an option upon it for threemonths, and hope when I reach England to form a company to take it up. '

'Well, I am sure, ' said the young lady, 'if you are confident that themine is a good one, you could see no one who would help you more in thatway than my father. He has been looking at a brewery business he thoughtof investing in, but which he has concluded to have nothing to do with, so he will be anxious to find something reliable in its place. How muchwould be required for the purchase of the mine you mention?'

'I was thinking of asking fifty thousand pounds for it, ' said Kenyon, flushing, as he thought of his own temerity in more than doubling theprice of the mine. 

Wentworth and he had estimated the probable value of the mine, and hadconcluded that even selling it at that price--which would give themthirty thousand pounds to divide between them--they were selling a minethat was really worth very much more, and would soon pay tremendousdividends on the fifty thousand pounds. He expected the young woman tobe impressed by the amount, and was, therefore, very much surprisedwhen she said:

'Fifty thousand pounds! Is that all? Then I am afraid my father wouldhave nothing to do with it. He only deals with large businesses, and acompany with a capitalization of fifty thousand pounds I am sure he wouldnot look at. '

'You talk of fifty thousand pounds, ' said Kenyon, 'as if it were a meretrifle. To me it seems an immense fortune. I only wish I had it, or halfof it. '

'You are not rich, then?' said the girl, with apparent interest. 

'No, ' replied the young man. 'Far otherwise. '

At that moment the elder Mr. Longworth appeared in the door of thecompanion-way, and looked up and down the deck. 

'Oh, here you are, ' he said, as his daughter sprang from her chair. 

'Father, ' she cried, 'let me introduce to you Mr. Kenyon, who is themining expert sent out by our syndicate to look at the Ottawa mines. '

'I am pleased to meet you, ' said the elder gentleman. 

The capitalist sat down beside the mining engineer, and began, somewhatto Kenyon's embarrassment, to talk of the London Syndicate. 

CHAPTER VI. 

A few mornings later Wentworth worked his way, with much balancing andgrasping of stanchions, along the deck, for the ship rolled fearfully, but the person he sought was nowhere visible. He thought he would go intothe smoking-room, but changed his mind at the door, and turned down thecompanion-way to the main saloon. The tables had been cleared of thebreakfast belongings, but on one of the small tables a white cloth hadbeen laid, and at this spot of purity in the general desert of red plushsat Miss Brewster, who was complacently ordering what she wanted from asteward, who did not seem at all pleased in serving one who haddisregarded the breakfast-hour, to the disarrangement of all saloonrules. The chief steward stood by a door and looked disapprovingly at thetardy guest. It was almost time to lay the tables for lunch, and theyoung woman was as calmly ordering her breakfast as if she had been thefirst person at table. 

She looked up brightly at Wentworth, and smiled as he approached her. 

'I suppose, ' she began, 'I'm dreadfully late, and the steward looks as ifhe would like to scold me. How awfully the ship is rolling! Is there astorm?'

'No. She seems to be doing this sort of thing for amusement. Wants tomake it interesting for the unfortunate passengers who are not goodsailors, I suppose. She's doing it, too. There's scarcely anyone ondeck. '

'Dear me! I thought we were having a dreadful storm. Is it raining?'

'No. It's a beautiful sunshiny day; without much wind either, in spite ofall this row. '

'I suppose you have had your breakfast long ago?'

'So long since that I am beginning to look forward with pleasantanticipation to lunch. '

'Oh dear! I had no idea I was so late as that. Perhaps _you_ hadbetter scold me. Somebody ought to do it, and the steward seems alittle afraid. '

'You over-estimate my courage. I am a little afraid, too. '

'Then you _do_ think I deserve it?'

'I didn't say that, nor do I think it. I confess, however, that up tothis moment I felt just a trifle lonely. '

'Just a trifle! Well, that _is_ flattery. How nicely you English do turna compliment! Just a trifle!'

'I believe, as a race, we do not venture much into compliment making atall. We leave that for the polite foreigner. He would say what I triedto say a great deal better than I did, of course, but he would not meanhalf so much. '

'Oh, that's very nice, Mr. Wentworth. No foreigner could have put itnearly so well. Now, what about going on deck?'

'Anywhere, if you let me accompany you. '

'I shall be most delighted to have you. I won't say merely a trifledelighted. '

'Ah! Haven't you forgiven that remark yet?'

'There's nothing to forgive, and it is quite too delicious to forget. Ishall never forget it. '

'I believe that you are very cruel at heart, Miss Brewster. '

The young woman gave him a curious side-look, but did not answer. Shegathered the wraps she had taken from her cabin, and, handing them to himbefore he had thought of offering to take them, she led the way to thedeck. He found their chairs side by side, and admired the intelligence ofthe deck-steward, who seemed to understand which chairs to placetogether. Miss Jennie sank gracefully into her own, and allowed him toadjust the wraps around her. 

'There, ' she said, 'that's very nicely done; as well as the deck-stewardhimself could do it, and I am sure it is impossible to pay you a moregraceful compliment than that. So few men know how to arrange onecomfortably in a steamer chair. '

'You speak as though you had vast experience in steamer life, and yet youtold me this was your first voyage. '

'It is. But it doesn't take a woman more than a day to see that theaverage man attends to such little niceties very clumsily. Now just tuckin the corner out of sight. There! Thank you, ever so much. And would yoube kind enough to--Yes, that's better. And this other wrap so. Oh, thatis perfect. What a patient man you are, Mr. Wentworth!'

'Yes, Miss Brewster. You _are_ a foreigner. I can see that now. Yourprofessed compliment was hollow. You said I did it perfectly, and thenimmediately directed me how to do it. '

'Nothing of the kind. You did it well, and I think you ought not togrudge me the pleasure of adding my own little improvements. '

'Oh, if you put it in that way, I will not. Now, before I sit down, tellme what book I can get that will interest you. The library contains avery good assortment. '

'I don't think I care about reading. Sit down and talk. I suppose I amtoo indolent to-day. I thought, when I came on board, that I would do alot of reading, but I believe the sea-air makes one lazy. I must confessI feel entirely indifferent to mental improvement. '

'You evidently do not think my conversation will be at all worthlistening to. '

'How quick you are to pervert my meaning! Don't you see that I thinkyour conversation better worth listening to than the most interesting orimproving book you can choose from the library? Really, in trying toavoid giving you cause for making such a remark, I have apparentlystumbled into a worse error. I was just going to say I would like yourconversation much better than a book, when I thought you would take thatas a reflection on your reading. If you take me up so sharply I will sithere and say nothing. Now then, talk!'

'What shall I say?'

'Oh, if I told you what to say I should be doing the talking. Tell meabout yourself. What do you do in London?'

'I work hard. I am an accountant. '

'And what is an accountant? What does he do? Keep accounts?'

'Some of them do; I do not. I see, rather, that accounts which otherpeople keep have been correctly kept. '

'Aren't they always correctly kept? I thought that was what book-keeperswere hired for. '

'If books were always correctly kept there would be little for us to do;but it happens, unfortunately for some, but fortunately for us, thatpeople occasionally do not keep their accounts accurately. '

'And can you always find that out if you examine the books?'

'Always. '

'Can't a man make up his accounts so that no one can tell there isanything wrong?'

'The belief that such a thing can be done has placed many a poor wretchin prison. It has been tried often enough. '

'I am sure they can do it in the States. I have read of it being done andcontinued for years. Men have made off with great sums of money byfalsifying the books, and no one found it out until the one who did itdied or ran away. '

'Nevertheless, if an expert accountant had been called in, he would havefound out very soon that something was wrong, and just where the wrongwas, and how much. '

'I didn't think such cleverness possible. Have you ever discoveredanything like that?'

'I have. '

'What is done when such a thing is discovered?'

'That depends upon circumstances. Usually a policeman is called in. '

'Why, it's like being a detective. I wish you would tell me about some ofthe cases you have had. Don't make me ask so many questions. Talk. '

'I don't think my experiences would interest you in the least. Therewas one case with which I had something to do in London, two yearsago, that----'

'Oh, London! I don't believe the book-keepers there are half so sharp asours. If you had to deal with American accountants, you would not findout so easily what they had or had not done. '

'Well, Miss Brewster, I may say I have just had an experience of thatkind with some of your very sharpest American book-keepers. I found thatthe books had been kept in the most ingenious way with the intent todeceive. The system had been going on for years. '

'How interesting! And did you call in a policeman?'

'No. This was one of the cases where a policeman was not necessary. Thebooks were kept with the object of showing that the profits of the m--ofthe business--had been much greater than they really were. I may say thatone of your American accountants had already looked over the books, and, whether through ignorance or carelessness, or from a worse motive, hereported them all right. They were not all right, and the fact that theywere not, will mean the loss of a fortune to some people on your side ofthe water, and the saving of good money to others on my side. '

'Then I think your profession must be a very important one. '

'We think so, Miss Brewster. I would like to be paid a percentage on themoney saved because of my report. '

'And won't you?'

'Unfortunately, no. '

'I think that is too bad. I suppose the discrepancy must have been small, or the American accountant would not have overlooked it?'

'I didn't say he overlooked it. Still, the size of a discrepancy does notmake any difference. A small error is as easily found as a large one. This one was large. I suppose there is no harm in my saying that thebooks, taking them together, showed a profit of forty thousand pounds, when they should have shown a loss of nearly half that amount. I hopenobody overhears me. '

'No; we are quite alone, and you may be sure I will not breathe a wordof what you have been telling me. '

'Don't breathe it to Kenyon, at least. He would think me insane if heknew what I have said. '

'Is Mr. Kenyon an accountant, too?'

'Oh no. He is a mineralogist. He can go into a mine, and tell withreasonable certainty whether it will pay the working or not. Of course, as he says himself, any man can see six feet into the earth as well as hecan. But it is not every man that can gauge the value of a working mineso well as John Kenyon. '

'Then, while you were delving among the figures, your companion wasdelving among the minerals?'

'Precisely. '

'And did he make any such startling discovery as you did?'

'No; rather the other way. He finds the mines very good properties, andhe thinks that if they were managed intelligently they would be goodpaying investments--that is, at a proper price, you know--not at what theowners ask for them at present. But you can have no possible interest inthese dry details. '

'Indeed, you are mistaken. I think what you have told me intenselyinteresting. '

For once in her life Miss Jennie Brewster told the exact truth. Theunfortunate man at her side was flattered. 

'For what I have told you, ' he said, 'we were offered twice what theLondon people pay us for coming out here. In fact, even more than that:we were asked to name our own price. '

'Really now! By the owners of the property, I suppose, if you wouldn'ttell on them?'

'No. By one of your famous New York newspaper men. He even went so faras to steal the papers that Kenyon had in Ottawa. He was cleverly caught, though, before he could make any use of what he had stolen. In fact, unless his people in New York had the figures which were originallyplaced before the London Board, I doubt if my statistics would have beenof much use to him even if he had been allowed to keep them. The fullsignificance of my report will not show until the figures I have givenare compared with those already in the hands of the London people, whichwere vouched for as correct by your clever American accountant. '

'You shouldn't run down an accountant just because he is American. Perhaps there will come a day, Mr. Wentworth, when you will admit thatthere are Americans who are more clever than either that accountant orthat newspaper man. I don't think your specimens are typical. '

'I don't "run down, " as you call it, the men because they are Americans. I "run down" the accountant because he was either ignorant or corrupt. I"run down" the newspaper man because he was a thief. '

Miss Brewster was silent for a few moments. She was impressing on hermemory what he had said to her, and was anxious to get away, so that shecould write out in her cabin exactly what had been told her. The sound ofthe lunch-gong gave her the excuse she needed, so, bidding her victim apleasant and friendly farewell, she hurried from the deck to herstate-room. 

CHAPTER VII. 

One morning, when Kenyon went to his state-room on hearing thebreakfast-gong, he found the lazy occupant of the upper berth stillin his bunk. 

'Come, Wentworth, ' he shouted, 'this won't do, you know. Get up! get up!breakfast, my boy! breakfast!--the most important meal in the day to ahealthy man. '

Wentworth yawned and stretched his arms over his head. 

'What's the row?' he asked. 

'The row is, it's time to get up. The second gong has sounded. '

'Dear me! is it so late? I didn't hear it. ' Wentworth sat up in his bunk, and looked ruefully over the precipice down the chasm to the floor. 'Haveyou been up long?' he asked. 

'Long? I have been on deck an hour and a half, ' answered Kenyon. 

'Then, Miss What's-her-Name must have been there also. '

'Her name is Miss Longworth, ' replied Kenyon, without looking at hiscomrade. 

'That's her name, is it? and she _was_ on deck?'

'She was. '

'I thought so, ' said Wentworth; 'just look at the divine influence ofwoman! Miss Longworth rises early, therefore John Kenyon rises early. Miss Brewster rises late, therefore George Wentworth is not seen untilbreakfast-time. If the conditions were reversed, I suppose the getting-uptime of the two men would be changed accordingly. '

'Not at all, George--not at all. I would rise early whether anybody elseon board did or not. In fact, when I got on deck this morning, I expectedto have it to myself. '

'I take it, though, that you were not grievously disappointed when youfound you hadn't a monopoly?'

'Well, to tell the truth, I was not; Miss Longworth is a charminglysensible girl. '

'Oh, they all are, ' said Wentworth lightly. 'You had no sympathy forme the other day. Now you know how it is yourself, as they say acrossthe water. '

'I don't know how it is myself. The fact is, we were talking business. '

'Really? Did you get so far?'

'Yes, we got so far, if that is any distance. I told her about themica-mine. '

'Oh, you did! What did she say? Will she invest?'

'Well, when I told her we expected to form a company for fifty thousandpounds, she said it was such a small sum, she doubted if we could getanybody interested in it in London. '

Wentworth, who was now well advanced with his dressing, gave a longwhistle. 

'Fifty thousand pounds a small sum? Why, John, she must be very wealthy!Probably more so than the American millionairess. '

'Well, George, you see, the difference between the two young ladies isthis: that while American heiresses are apt to boast of their immensewealth, English women say nothing about it. '

'If you mean Miss Brewster when you speak in that way, you are entirelymistaken. She has never alluded to her wealth at all, with the exceptionof saying that her father was a millionaire. So if the young woman youspeak of has been talking of her wealth at all, she has done more thanthe American girl. '

'She said nothing to indicate she was wealthy. I merely conjectured itwhen I discovered she looked upon fifty thousand pounds as a triviality. '

'Well, the fault is easily remedied. We may raise the price of the mineto one hundred thousand pounds if we can get people to invest. Perhapsthe young lady's father might care to go in for it at that figure. '

'Oh, by the way, Wentworth, ' said Kenyon, 'I forgot to tell you, MissLongworth's father is one of the London Syndicate. '

'By Jove! are you sure of that? How do you know? You weren't talking ofour mission out there, were you?'

'Certainly not, ' replied Kenyon, flushing. 'You don't think I would speakof that to a stranger, do you? nor of anything concerned with ourreports. '

Wentworth proceeded with his dressing, a guilty feeling rising in hisheart. 

'I want to ask you a question about that. '

'About what?' said Wentworth shortly. 

'About those mines. Miss Longworth's father being a member of the LondonSyndicate, suppose he asks what our views in relation to the matter are:would we be justified in telling him anything?'

'He won't ask me as I don't know him; he may ask you, and if he does, then you will have to decide the question for yourself. '

'Would you say anything about it if you were in my place?'

'Oh, I don't know. If we were certain it was all right--if you are surehe _is_ a member of the syndicate, and he happens to ask you about it, Iscarcely see how you can avoid telling him. '

'It would be embarrassing; so I hope he won't ask me. We should not speakof it until we give in our reports. He knows, however, that you are theaccountant who has that part of the business in charge. '

'Oh, then you have been talking with him?'

'Just a moment or two, after his daughter introduced me. '

'What did you say his name was?'

'John Longworth, I believe. I am sure about the Longworth, but not aboutthe John. '

'Oh, old John Longworth in the City! Certainly; I know all about him. Inever saw him before, but I think we are quite safe in telling himanything he wants to know, if he asks. '

'Breakfast, gentlemen, ' said the steward, putting his head in at thedoor. 

After breakfast Edith Longworth and her cousin walked the deck together. Young Longworth, although in better humour than he had been the nightbefore, was still rather short in his replies, and irritating in hisquestions. 

'Aren't you tired of this eternal parade up and down?' he asked hiscousin. 'It seems to me like a treadmill--as if a person had to work forhis board and lodging. '

'Let us sit down then, ' she replied; 'although I think a walk beforelunch or dinner increases the attractiveness of those meals wonderfully. '

'I never feel the need of working up an appetite, ' he answered pettishly. 

'Well, as I said before, let us sit down;' and the girl, having foundher chair, lifted the rug that lay upon it, and took her place. 

The young man, after standing for a moment looking at her through hisglistening monocle, finally sat down beside her. 

'The beastly nuisance of living on board ship, ' he said, 'is that youcan't play billiards. '

'I am sure you play enough at cards to satisfy you during the few days weare at sea, ' she answered. 

'Oh, cards! I soon tire of them. '

'You tire very quickly of everything. '

'I certainly get tired of lounging about the deck, either walking orsitting. '

'Then, pray don't let me keep you. '

'You want me to go so you may walk with your newly-found friend, thatminer fellow?'

'That miner fellow is talking with my father just now. Still, if youwould like to know, I have no hesitation in telling you I would muchprefer his company to yours if you continue in your present mood. '

'Yes, or in any mood. '

'I did not say that; but if it will comfort you to have me say it, Ishall be glad to oblige you. '

'Perhaps, then, I should go and talk with your father, and let the minerfellow come here and talk with you. '

'Please do not call him the miner fellow. His name is Mr. Kenyon. It isnot difficult to remember. '

'I know his name well enough. Shall I send him to you?'

'No. I want to talk with you in spite of your disagreeableness. And whatis more, I want to talk with you about Mr. Kenyon. So I wish you toassume your very best behaviour. It may be for your benefit. '

The young man indulged in a sarcastic laugh. 

'Oh, if you are going to do that, I have nothing more to say, ' remarkedEdith quietly, rising from her chair. 

'I meant no harm. Sit down and go on with your talk. '

'Listen, then. Mr. Kenyon has the option of a mine in Canada, which hebelieves to be a good property. He intends to form a company when hereaches London. Now, why shouldn't you make friends with him, and, if youfound the property is as good as he thinks it is, help him to form thecompany, and so make some money for both of you?'

'You are saying one word for me and two for Kenyon. '

'No, it would be as much for your benefit as for his, so it is a word foreach of you. '

'You are very much interested in him. '

'My dear cousin, I am very much interested in the mine, and I am verymuch 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 insomething of the sort. I mean, you know that if you would do somethingof your own accord--something that was not suggested to you by him--hewould 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 hesaw 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. Kenyondiscussing arrangements, so that when you return to London you might beprepared 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 whatyou suggest; but I believe you are speaking only because you areinterested in Kenyon. '

'Nonsense! How can you be so absurd? I have known Mr. Kenyon but for afew hours--a 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 Idon'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 atyour 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. Willyou 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 surlyfashion. 

'I am going to speak to my father, ' said the girl, 'and will leave you totalk 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 among--bythe way, how many are there in this thing--yourself 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 it--thereis no swindle about it, is there?'

Kenyon drew himself up sharply as this remark was made. Then he answeredcoldly:

'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 asyou may imagine. If the mine is so valuable, why are the proprietorsanxious to sell?'

'The owners are in Austria, and the mine in Canada, and so it is ratherat arm's-length, as it were. They are mining for mica, but the mine ismore valuable in other respects than it is as a mica property. They haveplaced 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 not--no 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 lookafter their mines, or the mines they thought of purchasing, were younot?'

'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, youwill have to excuse me. We were sent by the London Syndicate to do acertain thing. We did it, and did it thoroughly. After it was done thetime was our own, as much as it is at the present moment. We were nothired by the day, but took a stated sum for doing a certain piece ofwork. I may go further and say that the time was our own at any periodof our visit, so long as we fulfilled what the London Syndicaterequired of us. '

'Oh, I meant no offence, ' said Longworth. 'You merely seemed to be posingas a sort of goody-goody young man when I spoke of mining swindles, so Ionly wished to startle you. How much have you to pay for the mine--thatis the mica-mine?'

Kenyon hesitated for a moment. 

'I do not feel at liberty to mention the sum until I have consulted withmy friend Wentworth. '

'Well, you see, if I am to help you in this matter, I shall need to knowevery particular. '

'Certainly. I shall have to consult Wentworth as to whether we requireany help or not. '

'Oh, you will speedily find that you require all the help you can get inLondon. You will probably learn that a hundred such mines are for salenow, and the chances are you will find that this very mica-mine has beenoffered. What do you believe the mine is really worth?'

'I think it is worth anywhere from one hundred thousand pounds to twohundred 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 attwo hundred thousand pounds? If it will pay ten per cent and more on thatamount of money, then that sum is what you ought to sell it for. Now wewill investigate this matter, if you like, and if you wish to take me inwith you, and put the price up to two hundred thousand pounds, I will seewhat can be done about it when we get to London. Of course, it will meansomebody going out to Canada again to report on the mine. Your reportwould naturally not be taken in such a case; you are too vitallyinterested. '

'Of course, ' replied Kenyon, 'I shouldn't expect my report to have anyweight. '

'Well, somebody would have to be sent out to report on the mine. Are youcertain that it will stand thorough investigation?'

'I am convinced of it. '

'Would you be willing to make this proposition to the investors, that, ifthe expert did not support your statement, you would pay his expenses outthere and back?'

'I would be willing to do that, ' said Kenyon, 'if I had the money; but Ihaven't the money. '

'Then, how do you expect to float the mine on the London market? Itcannot 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 companiesare formed. Perhaps your friend Wentworth, being an accountant, may knowmore 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 hundredthousand 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; ifit will pay eight per cent. On that amount, it is the real price of themine, 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 withentire 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 bedone 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, andwhile I do not promise anything, I think the scheme looks feasible, ifthe property is good. Remember, I know nothing at all about that, but ifyou agree to take me in, I shall have to know full particulars of whatyou 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 ourfull confidence. '

'Well, there is nothing more to say until you have had a consultationwith your friend. Good-morning, Mr. Kenyon;' and with that Longwortharose and lounged off to the smoking-room. 

Kenyon waited where he was for some time, hoping Wentworth would comealong, but the young man did not appear. At last he went in search ofhim. He passed along the deck, but found no trace of his friend, andlooked for a moment into the smoking-room, but Wentworth was not there. He went downstairs to the saloon, but his search below was equallyfruitless. Coming up on deck again, he saw Miss Brewster sitting alonereading 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 atKenyon 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 morethan likely that he is there. '

With that, Miss Brewster resumed her book. 

Kenyon descended to the state-room, opened the door, and saw his comradesitting upon the plush-covered sofa, with his head in his hands. At theopening of the door, Wentworth started and looked for a moment at hisfriend, apparently not seeing him. His face was so gray and ghastly thatKenyon leaned against the door for support as he saw it. 

'My God, George!' he cried, 'what is the matter with you? What hashappened? Tell me!'

Wentworth gazed in front of him with glassy eyes for a moment, but didnot answer. Then his head dropped again in his hands, and he groanedaloud. 

CHAPTER VIII. 

There was one man on board the _Caloric_ to whom Wentworth had taken anextreme dislike. His name was Fleming, and he claimed to be a New Yorkpolitician. As none of his friends or enemies asserted anything worseabout him, it may be assumed that Fleming had designated his occupationcorrectly. If Wentworth were asked what he most disliked about the man, he would probably have said his offensive familiarity. Fleming seemed tothink himself a genial good fellow, and he was immensely popular with acertain class in the smoking-room. He was lavishly free with hisinvitations 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 aman boisterously on the back, and saying, 'Well, old fellow, how are you?How's things?' He usually confided to his listeners that he was aself-made man: had landed at New York without a cent in his pocket, andlook at him now!

Wentworth was icy towards this man; but frigidity had no effect whateveron the exuberant spirits of the New York politician. 

'Well, old man!' cried Fleming to Wentworth, as he came up to the latterand linked arms affectionately. 'What lovely weather we are having forwinter time!'

'It _is_ good, ' said Wentworth. 

'Good? It's glorious! Who would have thought, when leaving New York in asnowstorm as we did, that we would run right into the heart of spring? Ihope you are enjoying your voyage?'

'I am. '

'You ought to. By the way, why are you so awful stand-offish? Is itnatural, 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 andformal with a fellow?'

'I am never stiff and formal with anyone unless I do not desire hisacquaintance. '

Fleming laughed loudly. 

'I suppose that's a personal hint. Well, it seems to me, if thisexclusiveness is genuine, that you would be more afraid of newspapernotoriety 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 withDolly 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 MissJennie Brewster is the one who writes those Sunday articles over thesignature 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 saidMiss Brewster was a correspondent of the _Argus_, he was aghast. 

'I--I--I 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 itshows 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 UnitedStates for finding out just what a man doesn't want to have known. Youknow the Secretary of State'--and here Fleming went on to relate awonderfully brilliant feat of Dolly's; but the person to whom he wastalking had neither eyes nor ears. He heard nothing and he saw nothing. 

'Dear me!' said Fleming, drawing himself up and slapping the other on theback, 'you look perfectly dumfounded. I suppose I oughtn't to have givenDolly away like this; but she has pretended all along that she didn'tknow me, and so I've got even with her. You take my advice, and anythingyou 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 true--it can't be true!' Wentworth repeated to himself indeep consternation, but still an inward misgiving warned him that, afterall, it might be true. With his hands clasped behind him he walked up anddown, trying to collect himself--trying to remember what he had told andwhat he had not. As he walked along, heeding nobody, a sweet voice fromone of the chairs thrilled him, and he paused. 

'Why, Mr. Wentworth, what is the matter with you this morning? You lookas if you had seen a ghost. '

Wentworth glanced at the young woman seated in the chair, who was gazingup brightly at him. 

'Well, ' he said at last, 'I am not sure but I _have_ seen a ghost. May Isit down beside you?'

'May you? Why, of course you may. I shall be delighted to have you. Isthere 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 allif I can. '

'Thank you. Will you tell me, Miss Brewster, if you are connected withany newspaper?'

Miss Brewster laughed her merry, silvery little laugh. 

'Who told you? Ah! I see how it is. It was that creature Fleming. I'llget even with him for this some day. I know what office he is after, andthe next time he wants a good notice from the _Argus_ he'll get it; seeif he don't. I know some things about him that he would just as soon notsee in print. Why, what a fool the man is! I suppose he told you out ofrevenge because I wouldn't speak to him the other evening. Never mind; Ican afford to wait. '

'Then--then, Miss Brewster, it _is_ true?'

'Certainly it is true; is there anything wrong about it? I hope you don'tthink it is disreputable to belong to a good newspaper?'

'To a good newspaper, no; to a bad newspaper, yes. '

'Oh, I don't think the _Argus_ is a bad newspaper. It pays me well. '

'Then it is to the _Argus_ that you belong?'

'Certainly. '

'May I ask, Miss Brewster, if there is anything I have spoken about toyou that you intend to use in your paper?'

Again Miss Brewster laughed. 

'I will be perfectly frank with you. I never tell a lie--it doesn't pay. Yes. The reason I am here is because _you_ are here. I am here to findout what your report on those mines will be, also what the report of yourfriend will be. I have found out. '

'And do you intend to use the information you have thus obtained--if Imay say it--under false pretences?'

'My dear sir, you are forgetting yourself. You must remember that you aretalking to a lady. '

'A lady!' cried Wentworth in his anguish. 

'Yes, sir, a lady; and you must be careful how you talk to _this_ lady. There was no false pretence about it, if you remember. What you told mewas in conversation; I didn't ask you for it. I didn't even make thefirst advances towards your acquaintance. '

'But you must admit, Miss Brewster, that it is very unfair to get a manto engage in what he thinks is a private conversation, and then topublish what he has said. '

'My dear sir, if that were the case, how would we get anything forpublication that people didn't want to be known? Why, I remember once, when the Secretary of State----'

'Yes, ' interrupted Wentworth wearily; 'Fleming told me that story. '

'Oh, did he? Well, I'm sure I'm much obliged to him. Then I need notrepeat it. '

'Do you mean to say that you intend to send to the _Argus_ forpublication what I have told you in confidence?'

'Certainly. As I said before, that is what I am here for. Besides, therewas no "in confidence" about it. '

'And yet you pretend to be a truthful, honest, honourable woman?'

'I don't _pretend_ it; I am. '

'How much truth, then, is there in your story that you are amillionaire's daughter about to visit your father in Paris, and accompanyhim from there to the Riviera?'

Miss Brewster laughed brightly. 

'Oh, I don't call fibs, which a person has to tell in the way ofbusiness, untruths. '

'Then probably you do not think your estimable colleague, Mr. J. K. Rivers, behaved dishonourably in Ottawa?'

'Well, hardly. I think Rivers was not justified in what he did because hewas unsuccessful, that is all. I'll bet a dollar if I had got hold ofthese papers they would have gone through to New York; but, then, J. K. Rivers is only a stupid man, and most men _are_ stupid'--with a slyglance at Wentworth. 

'I am willing to admit that, Miss Brewster, if you mean me. There neverwas a more stupid man than I have been. '

'My dear Mr. Wentworth, it will do you ever so much good if you come toa realization of that fact. The truth is, you take yourself much tooseriously. Now, it won't hurt you a bit to have what I am going to sendpublished in the _Argus_, and it will help me a great deal. Just you waithere for a few moments. '

With that she flung her book upon his lap, sprang up, and vanished downthe companion-way. In a very short time she reappeared with some sheetsof paper in her hand. 

'Now you see how fair and honest I am going to be. I am going to read youwhat I have written. If there is anything in it that is not true, I willvery gladly cut it out; and if there is anything more to be added, Ishall be very glad to add it. Isn't that fair?'

Wentworth was so confounded with the woman's impudence that he could makeno reply. 

She began to read: '"By an unexampled stroke of enterprise the _New YorkArgus_ is enabled this morning to lay before its readers a full andexclusive account of the report made by the two English specialists, Mr. George Wentworth and Mr. John Kenyon, who were sent over by the LondonSyndicate to examine into the accounts, and inquire into the true valueof the mines of the Ottawa River. "'

She looked up from the paper, and said, with an air of friendlyconfidence:

'I shouldn't send that if I thought the people at the New York end wouldknow enough to write it themselves; but as the paper is edited by dullmen, and not by a sharp woman, I have to make them pay twenty-five centsa word for puffing their own enterprise. Well, to go on: "When it isremembered that the action of the London Syndicate will depend entirelyon the report of these two gentlemen--"'

'I wouldn't put it that way, ' interrupted Wentworth in his despair. 'Iwould use the word "largely" for "entirely. "'

'Oh, _thank_ you, ' said Miss Brewster cordially. She placed themanuscript on her knee, and, with her pencil, marked out the word'entirely, ' substituting 'largely. ' The reading went on: '"When it isremembered that the action of the London Syndicate will depend _largely_on the report of these two gentlemen, the enterprise of the _Argus_ ingetting this exclusive information, which will be immediately cabled toLondon, may be imagined. " That is the preliminary, you see; and, as Isaid, it wouldn't be necessary to cable it if women were at the head ofaffairs over there, which they are not. "Mr. John Kenyon, the miningexpert, has visited all the mineral ranges along the Ottawa River, andhis report is that the mines are very much what is claimed for them; buthe thinks they are not worked properly, although, with judiciousmanagement and more careful mining, the properties can be made to paygood dividends. Mr. George Wentworth, who is one of the leadingaccountants of London--"'

'I wouldn't say that, either, ' groaned George. 'Just strike out the words"one of the leading accountants of London. "'

'Yes?' said Miss Brewster; 'and what shall I put in the place of them?'

'Put in place of them "the stupidest ass in London"!'

Miss Brewster laughed at that. 

'No; I shall put in what I first wrote: "Mr. George Wentworth, one ofthe leading accountants of London, has gone through the books of thedifferent mines. He has made some startling discoveries. The accountshave been kept in such a way as to completely delude investors, and thisfact will have a powerful effect on the minds of the London Syndicate. The books of the different mines show a profit of about two hundredthousand dollars, whereas the actual facts of the case are that there hasbeen an annual loss of something like one hundred thousand dollars--"'

'What's that? what's that?' cried Wentworth sharply. 

'Dollars, you know. You said twenty thousand pounds. We put it indollars, don't you see?'

'Oh, ' said Wentworth, relapsing again. 

'"One hundred thousand dollars"--where was I? Oh yes. "It is claimedthat an American expert went over these books before Mr. Wentworth, andthat he asserted they were all right. An explanation from this gentlemanwill now be in order. "'

'There!' cried the young lady, 'that is the substance of the thing. Ofcourse, I may amplify a little more before we get to Queenstown, so as tomake them pay more money. People don't value a thing that doesn't costthem dearly. How do you like it? Is it correct?'

'Perfectly correct, ' answered the miserable young man. 

'Oh, I am so glad you like it! I do love to have things right. '

'I didn't say I _liked_ it. '

'No, of course, you couldn't be expected to say that; but I am glad youthink it is accurate. I will add a note to the effect that you think itis a good _résumé_ of your report. '

'For Heaven's sake, don't drag me into the matter!' cried Wentworth. 

'Well, I won't, if you don't want me to. '

There was silence for a few moments, during which the young woman seemedto be adding commas and full-stops to the MS. On her knee. Wentworthcleared his throat two or three times, but his lips were so dry that hecould hardly speak. At last he said:

'Miss Brewster, how can I induce you not to send that from Queenstown toyour paper?'

The young woman looked up at him with a pleasant bright smile. 

'Induce me? Why, you couldn't do it--it couldn't be done. This will beone of the greatest triumphs I have ever achieved. Think of Riversfailing in it, and me accomplishing it!'

'Yes; I have thought of that, ' replied the young man despondently. 'Now, perhaps you don't know that the full report was mailed from Ottawa to ourhouse in London, and the moment we get to Queenstown I will telegraph mypartners to put the report in the hands of the directors?'

'Oh, I know all about that, ' replied Miss Brewster; 'Rivers told me. Heread the letter that was enclosed with the documents he took from yourfriend. Now, have you made any calculations about this voyage?'

'Calculations? I don't know what you mean. '

'Well, I mean just this: We shall probably reach Queenstown on Saturdayafternoon. This report, making allowance for the difference in the time, will appear in the _Argus_ on Sunday morning. Your telegram will reachyour house or your firm on Saturday night, when nothing can be done withit. Sunday nothing can be done. Monday morning, before your report willreach the directors, the substance of what has appeared in the _Argus_will be in the financial papers, cabled over to London on Sunday night. The first thing your directors will see of it will be in the Londonfinancial papers on Monday morning. That's what I mean, Mr. Wentworth, bycalculating the voyage. '

Wentworth said no more. He staggered to his feet and made his way as besthe could to the state-room, groping like a blind man. There he sat downwith his head in his hands, and there his friend Kenyon found him. 

CHAPTER IX. 

'Tell me what has happened, ' demanded John Kenyon. 

Wentworth looked up at him. 

'Everything has happened, ' he answered. 

'What do you mean, George? Are you ill? What is the matter with you?'

'I am worse than ill, John--a great deal worse than ill. I wish Iwere ill. '

'That wouldn't help things, whatever is wrong. Come, wake up. Tell mewhat the trouble is. '

'John, I am a fool--an ass--a gibbering idiot. '

'Admitting that, what then?'

'I trusted a woman--imbecile that I am; and now--now--I'm what you seeme. '

'Has--has Miss Brewster anything to do with it?' asked Kenyonsuspiciously. 

'She has everything to do with it. '

'Has she--rejected you, George?'

'What! _that_ girl? Oh, you're the idiot now. Do you think I wouldask _her_?'

'I cannot be blamed for jumping at conclusions. You must remember "thatgirl, " as you call her, has had most of your company during this voyage;and most of your good words when you were not with her. What _is_ thematter? What has she to do with your trouble?'

Wentworth paced up and down the narrow limits of the state-room as if hewere caged. He smote his hand against his thigh, while Kenyon looked athim in wonder. 

'I don't know how I can tell you, John, ' he said. 'I must, of course; butI don't know how I can. '

'Come on deck with me. '

'Never. '

'Come out, I say, into the fresh air. It is stuffy here, and, besides, there is more danger of being overheard in the state-room than on deck. Come along, old fellow. '

He caught his companion by the arm, and partly dragged him out of theroom, closing the door behind him. 

'Pull yourself together, ' he said. 'A little fresh air will do you good. '

They made their way to the deck, and, linking arms, walked up and down. For a long time Wentworth said nothing, and Kenyon had the tact to holdhis peace. Suddenly Wentworth noticed that they were pacing back andforth in front of Miss Brewster, so he drew his friend away to anotherpart of the ship. After a few turns up and down, he said:

'You remember Rivers, of course. '

'Distinctly. '

'He was employed on that vile sheet, the _New York Argus_. '

'I suppose it is a vile sheet. I don't remember ever seeing it. Yes, Iknow he was connected with that paper. What then? What has Miss Brewsterto do with Rivers?'

'She is one of the _Argus_ staff, too. '

'George Wentworth, you don't mean to tell me that!'

'I do. '

'And is she here to find out about the mine?'

'Exactly. She was put on the job after Rivers had failed. '

'George!' said Kenyon, suddenly dropping his companion's arm and facinghim. 'What have you told her?'

'There is the misery of it. I have told her everything. '

'My dear fellow, how could you be----'

'Oh, I know--I know! I know everything you would say. Everything you cansay I have said to myself, and ten times more and ten times worse. Thereis nothing you can say of me more bitter than what I think about myself. '

'Did you tell her anything about _my_ report?'

'I told her everything--_everything_! Do you understand? She is goingto telegraph from Queenstown the full essence of the reports--of bothour reports. '

'Heavens! this is fearful. Is there no way to prevent her sending it?'

'If you think you can prevent her, I wish you would try it. '

'How did you find it out? Did _she_ tell you?'

'Oh, it doesn't matter how I found it out. I did find it out. A man toldme who she was; then I asked her, and she was perfectly frank about it. She read me the report, even. '

'Read it to you?'

'Yes, read it to me, and punctuated it in my presence--put in some wordsthat I suggested as being better than those she had used. Oh, it was thecoolest piece of work you ever saw!'

'But there must be some way of preventing her getting that account to NewYork in time. You see, all we have to do is to wire your people to handin our report to the directors, and then hers is forestalled. She has totelegraph from a British office, and it seems to me that we could stopher in some way. '

'As, for instance, how?'

'Oh, I don't know just how at the moment, but we ought to be able to doit. If it were a man, we could have him arrested as a dynamiter orsomething; but a woman, of course, is more difficult to deal with. George, I would appeal to her better nature if I were you. '

Wentworth laughed sneeringly. 

'Better nature?' he said. 'She hasn't any; and that is not the worst ofit. She has "calculated, " as she calls it, all the possibilities in theaffair; she "calculates" that we will reach Queenstown about Saturdaynight. If we do, she will get her report through in time to bepublished on Sunday in the _New York Argus_. If that is the case, thensee where our telegram will be. We telegraph our people to send in thereport. It reaches the office Saturday night, and is not read. Theoffice closes at two o'clock; but even if they got it, and understoodthe urgency of the matter, they could not place the papers before thedirectors until Monday morning, and by Monday morning it will be in theLondon financial sheets. '

'George, that woman is a fiend. '

'No, she isn't, John. She is merely a clever American journalist, whothinks she has done a very good piece of work indeed, and who, throughthe stupidity of one man, has succeeded, that's all. '

'Have you made any appeal to her at all?'

'Oh, haven't I! Of course I have. What good did it do? She merely laughedat me. Don't you understand? That is what she is here for. Her wholevoyage is for that one purpose; and it's not likely the woman is going toforego her triumph after having succeeded--more especially as somebodyelse in the same office has failed. That's what gives additional zest towhat she has done. The fact that Rivers has failed and she has triumphedseems to be the great feather in her cap. '

'Then, ' said Kenyon, 'I'm going to appeal to Miss Brewster myself. '

'Very well. I wish you joy of your job. But do what you can, John, there's a good fellow. Meanwhile, I want to be alone somewhere. '

Wentworth went down the stairway that led to the steerage department, andfor a few moments sat among the steerage passengers. Then he climbed upanother ladder, and got to the very front of the ship. Here he sat downon a coil of rope, and thought over the situation. Thinking, however, didhim very little good. He realized that, even if he got hold of the paperMiss Brewster had, she could easily write another. She had the facts inher head, and all that she needed to do was to get to a telegraph officeand there hand in her message. 

Meanwhile, Kenyon took a few turns up and down the deck, thinking deeplyon the same subject. He passed over to the side where Miss Brewster sat, but on coming opposite her had not the courage to take his place besideher. She was calmly reading her book. Three times he came opposite her, paused for a moment, and then continued his hopeless march. He saw thathis courage was not going to be sufficient for the task, and yet he feltthe task must be accomplished. He didn't know how to begin. He didn'tknow what inducement to offer the young woman for foregoing the fruits ofher ingenuity. He felt that this was the weak point in his armour. Thethird time he paused in front of Miss Brewster; she looked up andmotioned him to the chair beside her, saying:

'I do not know you very well, Mr. Kenyon, but I know who you are. Won'tyou sit down here for a moment?'

The bewildered man took the chair she indicated. 

'Now, Mr. Kenyon, I know just what is troubling you. You have passedthree or four times wishing to sit down beside me, and yet afraid toventure. Is that not true?'

'Quite true. '

'I knew it was. Now I know also what you have come for. Mr. Wentworthhas told you what the trouble is. He has told you that he has given meall the particulars about the mines, hasn't he?'

'He has. '

'And he has gone off to his state-room to think over the matter, and hasleft the affair in your hands, and you imagine you can come here to meand, perhaps, talk me out of sending that despatch to the _Argus_. Isn'tthat your motive?'

'That is about what I hope to be able to do, ' said Kenyon, mopping hisbrow. 

'Well, I thought I might just as well put you out of your misery at once. You take things very seriously, Mr. Kenyon--I can see that. Now, don'tyou?'

'I am afraid I do. '

'Why, of course you do. The publication of this, as I told Mr. Wentworth, will really not matter at all. It will not be any reflection on either ofyou, because your friends will be sure that, if you had known to whom youwere talking, you would never have said anything about the mines. '

Kenyon smiled grimly at this piece of comfort. 

'Now, I have been thinking about something since Mr. Wentworth went away. I am really very sorry for him. I am more sorry than I can tell. '

'Then, ' said Kenyon eagerly, 'won't you----'

'No, I won't, so we needn't recur to that phase of the subject. That iswhat I am here for, and, no matter what you say, the despatch is going tobe sent. Now, it is better to understand that at the first, and then itwill create no trouble afterwards. Don't you think that is the best?'

'Probably, ' answered the wretched man. 

'Well, then, let us start there. I will say in the cablegram that theinformation comes from neither Mr. Kenyon nor Mr. Wentworth. '

'Yes, but that wouldn't be true. '

'Why, of course it wouldn't be true; but that doesn't matter, does it?'

'Well, on our side of the water, ' said Kenyon, 'we think the truthdoes matter. '

Miss Brewster laughed heartily. 

'Dear me!' she said, 'what little tact you have! How does it concern youwhether it is true or not? If there is any falsehood, it is not you whotell it, so you are free from all blame. Indeed, you are free from allblame anyhow, in this affair; it is all your friend Wentworth's fault;but still, if it hadn't been Wentworth, it would have been you. '

Kenyon looked up at her incredulously. 

'Oh yes, it would, ' she said, nodding confidently at him. 'You must notflatter yourself, because Mr. Wentworth told me everything about it, thatyou wouldn't have done just the same, if I had had to find it out fromyou. All men are pretty much alike where women are concerned. '

'Can I say nothing to you, Miss Brewster, which will keep you fromsending the message to America?'

'You cannot, Mr. Kenyon. I thought we had settled that at the beginning. I see there is no use talking to you. I will return to my book, which isvery interesting. Good-morning, Mr. Kenyon. '

Kenyon felt the hopelessness of his project quite as much as Wentworthhad done, and, thrusting his hands deep into his pockets, he wandereddisconsolately up and down the deck. 

As he went to the other side of the deck, he met Miss Longworth walkingalone. She smiled a cordial welcome to him, so he turned and changed hisstep to suit hers. 

'May I walk with you a few minutes?' he said. 

'Of course you may, ' was the reply, 'What is the matter? You are lookingvery unhappy. '

'My comrade and myself are in great trouble, and I thought I should liketo talk with you about it. '

'I am sure if there is anything I can do to help you, I shall be mostglad to do it. '

'Perhaps you may suggest something. You see, two men dealing with onewoman are perfectly helpless. '

'Ah, who is the one woman--not I, is it?'

'No, not you, Miss Longworth. I wish it were, then we would have notrouble. '

'Oh, thank you!'

'You see, it is like this: When we were in Quebec--I think I told youabout that--the _New York Argus_ sent a man to find out what we hadreported, or were going to report, to the London Syndicate. '

'Yes, you told me that. '

'Rivers was his name. Well, this same paper, finding that Rivers hadfailed after having stolen the documents, has tried a much more subtlescheme, which promises to be successful. They have put on board this shipa young woman who has gained a reputation for learning secrets notintended for the public. This young woman is Miss Brewster, who sits nextWentworth at the table. Fate seems to have played right into her handand placed her beside him. They became acquainted, and, unfortunately, myfriend has told her a great deal about the mines, which she professed aninterest in. Or, rather, she pretended to have an interest in him, and sohe spoke, being, of course, off his guard. There is no more carefulfellow in the world than George Wentworth, but a man does not expect thata private conversation with a lady will ever appear in a newspaper. '

'Naturally not. '

'Very well, that is the state of things. In some manner Wentworth came toknow that this young woman was the special correspondent of the _New YorkArgus_. He spoke to her about it, and she is perfectly frank in sayingshe is here solely for the purpose of finding out what the reports willbe, and that the moment she gets to Queenstown she will cable what shehas discovered to New York. '

'Dear me! that is very perplexing. What have you done?'

'We have done nothing so far, or rather, I should say, we have triedeverything we could think of, and have accomplished nothing. Wentworthhas appealed to her, and I made a clumsy attempt at an appeal also, butit was of no use. I feel my own helplessness in this matter, andWentworth is completely broken down over it. '

'Poor fellow! I am sure of that. Let me think a moment. '

They walked up and down the deck in silence for a few minutes. Then MissLongworth looked up at Kenyon, and said;

'Will you place this matter in my hands?'

'Certainly, if you will be so kind as to take any interest in it. '

'I take a great deal of interest. Of course, you know my father is deeplyconcerned in it also, so I am acting in a measure for him. '

'Have you any plan?'

'Yes; my plan is simply this: The young woman is working for money; now, if we can offer her more than her paper gives, she will very quicklyaccept, or I am much mistaken in the kind of woman she is. '

'Ah, yes, ' said Kenyon; 'but we haven't the money, you see. '

'Never mind; the money will be quickly forthcoming. Don't trouble anymore about it. I am sure that can be arranged. '

Kenyon thanked her, looking his gratitude rather than speaking it, forhe was an unready man, and she bade him good-bye until she could thinkover her plan. 

That evening there was a tap at the state-room door of Miss JennieBrewster. 

'Come in, ' cried the occupant. 

Miss Longworth entered, and the occupant of the room looked up, with afrown, from her writing. 

'May I have a few moments' conversation with you?' asked the visitorgravely. 

CHAPTER X. 

Miss Jennie Brewster was very much annoyed at being interrupted, and shetook no pains to conceal her feelings. She was writing an articleentitled 'How People kill Time on Shipboard, ' and she did not wish to bedisturbed; besides, as she often said of herself, she was not 'a woman'swoman, ' and she neither liked, nor was liked by, her own sex. 

'I desire a few moments' conversation with you, if I have yourpermission, ' said Edith Longworth, as she closed the door behind her. 

'Certainly, ' answered Jennie Brewster. 'Will you sit down?'

'Thank you, ' replied the other, as she took a seat on the sofa. 'I do notknow just how to begin what I wish to say. Perhaps it will be better tocommence by telling you that I know why you are on board this steamer. '

'Yes; and why am I on board the steamer, may I ask?'

'You are here, I understand, to get certain information from Mr. Wentworth. You have obtained it, and it is in reference to this that Ihave come to see you. '

'Indeed! and are you so friendly with Mr. Wentworth that you----'

'I scarcely know Mr. Wentworth at all. '

'Then, why do you come on a mission from him?'

'It is not a mission from him. It is not a mission from anyone. I wasspeaking to Mr. Kenyon, or, rather, Mr. Kenyon was speaking to me, abouta subject which troubled him greatly. It is a subject in which my fatheris interested. My father is a member of the London Syndicate, and henaturally would not desire to have your intended cable message sent toNew York. '

'Really; are you quite sure that you are not speaking less for yourfather than for your friend Kenyon?'

Anger burned in Miss Longworth's face, and flashed from her eyes asshe answered:

'You must not speak to me in that way. '

'Excuse me, I shall speak to you in just the way I please. I did not askfor this conference; you did, and as you have taken it upon yourself tocome into this room uninvited, you will have to put up with what youhear. Those who interfere with other people's business, as a generalthing, do not have a nice time. '

'I quite appreciated all the possible disagreeableness of coming here, when I came. '

'I am glad of that, because if you hear anything you do not like, youwill not be disappointed, and will have only yourself to thank for it. '

'I would like to talk about this matter in a spirit of friendliness if Ican. I think nothing is to be attained by speaking in any other way. '

'Very well, then. What excuse have you to give me for coming into mystate-room to talk about business which does not concern you?'

'Miss Brewster, it _does_ concern me--it concerns my father, and thatconcerns me. I am, in a measure, my father's private secretary, and amintimately acquainted with all the business he has in hand. Thisparticular business is his affair, and therefore mine. That is the reasonI am here. '

'Are you sure?'

'Am I sure of what?'

'Are you sure that what you say is true?'

'I am not in the habit of speaking anything but the truth. '

'Perhaps you flatter yourself that is the case, but it does not deceiveme. You merely come here because Mr. Kenyon is in a muddle about what Iam going to do. Isn't that the reason?'

Miss Longworth saw that her task was going to be even harder than shehad expected. 

'Suppose we let all question of motive rest? I have come here--I haveasked your permission to speak on this subject, and you have given me thepermission. Having done so, it seems to me you should hear me out. Yousay that I should not be offended----'

'I didn't say so. I do not care a rap whether you are offended or not. '

'You at least said I might hear something that would not be pleasant. What I wanted to say is this: I have taken the risk of that, and, as youremark, whether I am offended or not does not matter. Now we will come tothe point----'

'Just before you come to the point, please let me know if Mr. Kenyon toldyou he had spoken to me on this subject already. '

'Yes, he told me so. '

'Did he tell you that his friend Wentworth had also had a conversationwith me about it?'

'Yes, he told me that also. '

'Very well, then, if those two men can do nothing to shake my purpose, how do you expect to do it?'

'That is what I am about to tell you. This is a commercial world, and Iam a commercial man's daughter. I recognise the fact that you are goingto cable this information for the money it brings. Is that not the case?'

'It is partly the case. '

'For what other consideration do you work, then?'

'For the consideration of being known as one of the best newspaper womenin the city of New York. That is the other consideration. '

'I understood you were already known as the most noted newspaper woman inNew York. '

This remark was much more diplomatic than Miss Longworth herselfsuspected. 

Jennie Brewster looked rather pleased, then she said:

'Oh, I don't know about that; but I intend it shall be so before ayear is past. '

'Very well, you have plenty of time to accomplish your object withoutusing the information you have obtained on board this ship. Now, as I wassaying, the _New York Argus_ pays you a certain amount for doing thiswork. If you will promise not to send the report over to that paper, Iwill give you a cheque for double the sum the _Argus_ will pay you, besides refunding all your expenses twice over. '

'In other words, you ask me to be bribed and refuse to perform my duty tothe paper. '

'It isn't bribery. I merely pay you, or will pay you, double what youwill receive from that paper. I presume your connection with it is purelycommercial. You work for it because you receive a certain amount ofmoney; if the editor found someone who would do the same work cheaper, hewould at once employ that person, and your services would be no longerrequired. Is that not true?'

'Yes, it is true. '

'Very well, then, the question of duty hardly enters into such a compact. They have sent you on what would be to most people a very difficultmission. You have succeeded. You have, therefore, in your possessionsomething to sell. The New York paper will pay you a certain sum in cashfor it. I offer you, for the same article, double the price the _New YorkArgus_ will pay you. Is not that a fair offer?'

Jennie Brewster had arisen. She clasped and unclasped her handsnervously. For a small space of time nothing was said, and EdithLongworth imagined she had gained her point. The woman standing lookeddown at the woman sitting. 

'Do you know all the particulars about the attempt to get thisinformation?' asked Miss Brewster. 

'I know some of them. What particulars do you mean?'

'Do you know that a man from the _Argus_ tried to get this informationfrom Mr. Kenyon and Mr. Wentworth in Canada?'

'Yes; I know about that. '

'Do you know that he stole the reports, and that they were taken from himbefore he could use them?'

'Yes. '

'Do you know he offered Mr. Kenyon and Mr. Wentworth double the price theLondon Syndicate would have paid them, on condition they gave him asynopsis of the reports?'

'Yes, I know that also. '

'Do you know that, in doing what he asked, they would not have beenkeeping back for a single day the real report from the people who engagedthem? You know all that, do you?'

'Yes; I know all that. '

'Very well, then. Now you ask me to do very much more than Rivers askedthem, because you ask me to keep my paper completely in the dark aboutthe information I have got. Isn't that so?'

'Yes, you can keep them in the dark until after the report has been givento the directors; then, of course, you can do what you please with theinformation. '

'Ah, but by that time it will be of no value. By that time it will havebeen published in the London financial papers. At that time anybody canget it. Isn't that the case?'

'I suppose so. '

'Now, I want to ask you one other question, Miss--Miss--I don't think youtold me your name. '

'My name is Edith Longworth. '

'Very well, Miss Longworth. I want to ask you one more question. What doyou think of the conduct of Mr. Kenyon and Mr. Wentworth in refusing totake double what they had been promised for making the report?'

'What do I think of them?' repeated the girl. 

'Yes; what do you think of them? You hesitate. You realize that you arein a corner. You think Mr. Wentworth and Mr. Kenyon did very nobly inrefusing Rivers' offer?'

'Of course I do. '

'So do I. I think they acted rightly, and did as honourable men shoulddo. Now, when you think that, Miss Longworth, how dare you come and offerme double, or three times, or four times, the amount my paper gives to mefor getting this information? Do you think that I am any less honourablethan Kenyon or Wentworth? Your offer is an insult to me; nobody but awoman, and a woman of your class, would have made it. Kenyon wouldn'thave made it. Wentworth wouldn't have made it. You come here to bribeme. You come here to do exactly what J. K. Rivers tried to do for the_Argus_ in Canada. You think money will purchase anything--that is thethought of all your class. Now, I want you to understand that I am awoman of the people. I was born and brought up in poverty in New York. You were born and brought up amid luxury in London. I have sufferedprivation and hardships that you know nothing of, and, even if you readabout them, you wouldn't understand. You, with the impudence of yourclass, think you can come to me and bribe me to betray my employer. I amhere to do a certain thing, and I am going to do that certain thing inspite of all the money that all the Longworths ever possessed, or everwill possess. Do I make myself sufficiently plain?'

'Yes, Miss Brewster. I don't think anyone could misunderstand you. '

'Well, I am glad of that, because one can never tell how thickheaded somepeople may be. '

'Do you think there is any parallel between your case and Mr. Wentworth's?'

'Of course I do. We were each sent to do a certain piece of work. Weeach did our work. We have both been offered a bribe to cheat ouremployers of the fruits of our labour; only in my case it is very muchworse than in Wentworth's, because his employers would not have suffered, while mine will. '

'This is all very plausible, Miss Brewster, but now allow me to tell youthat what you have done is a most dishonourable thing, and that you are adisgrace to our common womanhood. You have managed, during a very shortacquaintance, to win the confidence of a man--there is a kind of womanwho knows how to do that: I thank Heaven I am not of that class; I preferto belong to the class you have just now been reviling. Some men have aninherent respect for all women; Mr. Wentworth is apparently one of those, and, while he was on his guard with a man, he was not on his guard with awoman. You took advantage of that and you managed to secure certaininformation which you knew he would never have given you if he hadthought it was to be published. You stole that information just asdisreputably as that man stole the documents from Mr. Kenyon's pocket. _You_ talk of your honour and your truth when you did such a contemptiblething! _You_ prate of unbribeableness, when the only method possible isadopted of making you do what is right and just and honest! Your conductmakes me ashamed of being a woman. A thoroughly bad woman I canunderstand, but not a woman like you, who trade on the fact that you_are_ a woman, and that you are pretty, and that you have a pleasingmanner. You use those qualities as a thief or a counterfeiter would usethe peculiar talents God had given him. How dare you pretend for a momentthat your case is similar to Mr. Wentworth's? Mr. Wentworth is anhonourable man, engaged in an honourable business; as for you and yourbusiness, I have no words to express my contempt for both. Pickingpockets is reputable compared with such work. '

Edith Longworth was now standing up, her face flushed and her handsclenched. She spoke with a vehemence which she very much regretted whenshe thought of the circumstance afterwards; but her chagrin anddisappointment at failure, where she had a moment before been sure ofsuccess, overcame her. Her opponent stood before her, angry and pale. Atfirst Edith Longworth thought she was going to strike her, but if anysuch idea passed through the brain of the journalist, she thought betterof it. For a few moments neither spoke, then Jennie Brewster said, in avoice of unnatural calmness:

'You are quite welcome to your opinion of me, Miss Longworth, and Ipresume I am entitled to my opinion of Kenyon and Wentworth. They aretwo fools, and you are a third in thinking you can control the actions ofa woman where two young men have failed. Do you think for a moment Iwould grant to you, a woman of a class I hate, what I would not grant toa man like Wentworth? They say there is no fool like an old fool, but itshould be said that there is no fool like a young woman who has hadeverything her own way in this world. You are----'

'I shall not stay and listen to your abuse. I wish to have nothing moreto do with you. '

'Oh, yes! you will stay, ' cried the other, placing her back against thedoor. '_You_ came here at your own pleasure; you will leave at mine. Iwill tell you more truth in five minutes than you ever heard in your lifebefore. I will tell you, in the first place, that my business is quite ashonourable as Kenyon's or Wentworth's. What does Kenyon do but try to getinformation about mines which other people are vitally interested inkeeping from him? What does Wentworth do but ferret about among accountslike a detective trying to find out what other people are endeavouring toconceal? What is the whole mining business but one vast swindle, whoseworst enemy is the press? No wonder anyone connected with mining fearspublicity. If your father has made a million out of mines, he has made itsimply by swindling unfortunate victims. I do my business my way, andyour two friends do theirs in their way. Of the two, I consider myvocation much the more upright. Now that you have heard what I have tosay, you may go, and let me tell you that I never wish to see you orspeak with you again. '

'Thank you for your permission to go. I am sure I cordially echo yourwish that we may never meet again. I may say, however, that I am sorry Ispoke to you in the way I did. It is, of course, impossible for you tolook on the matter from my point of view, just as it is impossible for meto look upon it from yours. Nevertheless, I wish you would forget what Isaid, and think over the matter a little more, and if you see your way toaccepting my offer it will be always open to you. Should you forego thesending of that cablegram, I will willingly pay you three times what the_New York Argus_ will give you for it. I do not offer that as a bribe; Imerely offer it so that you will not suffer from doing what I believe tobe a just action. It seems to me a great pity that two young men shouldhave to endure a serious check to their own business advancement becauseone of them was foolish enough to confide in a woman in whom hebelieved. '

Edith Longworth was young, and therefore scarcely likely to be a mistressof diplomacy, but she might have known the last sentence she utteredspoiled the effect of all that had gone before. 

'Really, Miss Longworth, I had some little admiration for you when youblazed out at me in the way you did; but now, when you coolly repeatyour offer of a bribe, adding one-third to it, all my respect for youvanishes. You may go and tell those who sent you that nothing underheaven can prevent that cablegram being sent. '

In saying this, however, Miss Brewster somewhat exceeded her knowledge. Few of us can foretell what may or may not happen under heaven. 

CHAPTER XI. 

Edith Longworth went to her state-room and there had what women call 'agood cry' over her failure. Jennie Brewster continued her writing, everynow and then pausing as she thought, with regret, of some sharp thing shemight have said, which did not occur to her at the time of the interview. Kenyon spent his time in pacing up and down the deck, hoping for thereappearance of Miss Longworth--an expectation which, for a time atleast, was the hope deferred which maketh the heart sick. Fleming, theNew York politician, kept the smoking-room merry, listening to thestories he told. He varied the proceedings by frequently asking everybodyto drink with him, an invitation that met with no general refusal. OldMr. Longworth dozed most of his time in his steamer chair. Wentworth, whostill bitterly accused himself of having been a fool, talked with no one, not even his friend Kenyon. All the time, the great steamship keptforging along through the reasonably calm water just as if nothing hadhappened or was going to happen. There had been one day of rain, and onenight and part of a day of storm. Saturday morning broke, and it wasexpected that some time in the night Queenstown would be reached. Earlyon Saturday morning the clouds looked lowering, as they have a right tolook near Ireland. 

Wentworth, the cause of all the worry, gave Kenyon very little assistancein the matter that troubled his mind. He was in the habit, when thesubject was referred to, of thrusting his hands into his hair, orplunging them down into his pockets, and breaking out into language whichwas as deplorable as it was expressive. The more Kenyon advised him to becalm, the less Wentworth followed that advice. As a general thing, hespent most of his time alone in a very gloomy state of mind. On oneoccasion when the genial Fleming slapped him on the shoulder, Wentworth, to his great astonishment, turned fiercely round and cried:

'If you do that again, sir, I'll knock you down. '

Fleming said afterwards that he was 'completely flabbergasted' bythis--whatever that may mean--and he added that the English in generalwere a queer race. It is true that he gathered himself together at thetime and, having laughed a little over the remark, said to Wentworth:

'Come and have a drink; then you'll feel better. '

This invitation Wentworth did not even take the trouble to decline, butthrust his hands in his pockets once more, and turned his back on thepopular New York politician. 

Wentworth summed up the situation to John Kenyon when he said:

'There is no use in our talking or thinking any more about it. We cansimply do nothing. I shall take the whole blame on my shoulders. I amresolved that you shall not suffer from my indiscretion. Now, don't talkto me any more about it. I want to forget the wretched business, ifpossible. '

So thus it came about quite naturally that John Kenyon, who was a gooddeal troubled about the matter, took as his confidante EdithLongworth, who also betrayed the greatest interest in the problem. Miss Longworth was left all the more alone because her cousin hadtaken permanently to the smoking-room. Someone had introduced him tothe fascinating game of poker, and in the practice of this particularamusement Mr. William Longworth was now spending a good deal of hissurplus cash, as well as his time. 

Jennie Brewster was seldom seen on deck. She applied herself assiduouslyto the writing of those brilliant articles which appeared later in theSunday edition of the _New York Argus_ under the general title of 'Lifeat Sea, ' and which have more recently been issued in book form. Aseverybody is already aware, her sketches of the genial New Yorkpolitician, and also of the taciturn, glum Englishman, are considered thefinest things in the little volume. They have been largely copied astypical examples of American humour. 

When Jennie Brewster did appear on deck, she walked alone up and down thepromenade, with a sort of half-defiant look in her eyes as she passedKenyon and Edith Longworth, and she generally encountered them together. 

On this particularly eventful Saturday morning, Kenyon and Edith had thedeck to themselves. The conversation naturally turned to the subjectwhich for the last few days had occupied the minds of both. 

'Do you know, ' said the girl, 'I have been thinking all along that shewill come to me at the last for the money. '

'I am not at all sure about that, ' answered Kenyon. 

'I thought she would probably keep us on the tenterhooks just as longas possible, and then at the last moment come and say she would acceptthe offer. '

'If she does, ' said Kenyon, 'I would not trust her. I would give her tounderstand that a cheque would be handed to her when we were certain thearticle had not been used. '

'Do you think that would be a safe way to act if she came and said shewould take the money for not sending the cablegram? Don't you think itwould be better to pay her and trust to her honour?'

Kenyon laughed. 

'I do not think I would trust much to her honour. '

'Now, do you know, I have a different opinion of her. I feel sure that ifshe said she would do a thing, she _would_ do it. '

'I have no such faith, ' answered Kenyon. 'I think, on the contrary, thatshe is quite capable of asking you for the money and still sending hertelegram. '

'Well, I doubt if she would do so. I think the girl really believes sheis acting rightly, and imagines she has done a creditable action in avery smart way. If she were not what she calls "honest, " she would nothave shown so much temper as she did. Not but that I gave a deplorableexhibition of temper myself, for which there was really no excuse. '

'I am sure, ' said Kenyon warmly, 'you did nothing of the kind. At allevents, I am certain everything you did was perfectly right; and I knowyou were completely justified in anything you said. '

'I wish I could think so. '

'I want to ask you one question, ' said Kenyon. 

But what that question was will never be known. It was never asked; andwhen Edith Longworth inquired about it some time later, the question hadentirely gone from Kenyon's mind. The steamship, which was ploughingalong through the waters, suddenly gave a shiver, as if it were shaken byan earthquake; there were three tremendous bumps, such as a sledge mightmake by going suddenly over logs concealed in the snow. Both Kenyon andMiss Longworth sprang to their feet. There was a low roar of steam, andthey saw a cloud rise amidships, apparently pouring out of every aperturethrough which it could escape. Then there was silence. The engines hadstopped, and the vessel heeled distinctly over to the port side. WhenEdith Longworth began to realize the situation, she found herself veryclose to Kenyon, clasping his arm with both hands. 

'What--what is it?' she cried in alarm. 

'Something is wrong, ' said Kenyon. 'Nothing serious, I hope. Will youwait here a moment while I go and see?'

'It is stupid of me, ' she answered, releasing his arm; 'but I feeldreadfully frightened. '

'Perhaps you would rather not be left alone. '

'Oh no, it is all over now; but when the first of those terrible shockscame it seemed to me we had struck a rock. '

'There are no rocks here, ' said Kenyon. 'The day is perfectly clear, andwe are evidently not out of our course. Something has gone wrong with themachinery, I imagine. Just wait a moment, and I will find out. '

As Kenyon rushed towards the companion-way, he met a sailor hurrying inthe other direction. 

'What is the matter?' cried Kenyon. 

The sailor gave no answer. 

On entering the companion-way door, Kenyon found the place full of steam, and he ran against an officer. 

'What is wrong? Is anything the matter?'

'How should I know?' was the answer, very curtly given. 'Please do notask any questions. Everything will be attended to. '

This was scant encouragement. People began crowding up the companion-way, coughing and wheezing in the steam; and soon the deck, that but a momentbefore had been almost without an occupant, was crowded with excitedhuman beings in all states of dress and undress. 

'What is wrong?' was the question on every lip, to which, as yet, therewas no answer. The officers who hurried to and fro were mute, or gaveshort and unsatisfactory replies to the inquiries which poured in uponthem. People did not pause to reflect that even an officer could hardlybe expected to know off-hand what the cause of the sudden stoppage of theengine might be. By-and-by the captain appeared, smiling and bland. Hetold them there was no danger. Something had gone amiss with themachinery, exactly what he could not, at the moment, tell; butthere was no necessity for being panic-stricken, everything wouldbe all right in a short time if they merely remained calm. These, and a lot of other nautical lies, which are always told on suchoccasions, served to calm the fears of the crowd; and by-and-by oneafter another went down to their state-rooms on finding the vessel wasnot going to sink immediately. They all appeared some time afterward inmore suitable apparel. The steam which had filled the saloon soondisappeared, leaving the furniture dripping with warm moisture. Finally, the loud clang of the breakfast-gong sounded as if nothing had happened, and that did more, perhaps, than anything else to allay the fears of thepassengers. If breakfast was about to be served, then, of course, thingswere not serious. Nevertheless, a great many people that morning had avery poor appetite for the breakfast served to them. The one blessing, aseverybody said, was that the weather kept so fine and the sea so calm. Tothose few who knew anything about disasters at sea, the list of the shipto the port side was a most serious sign. The majority of the passengers, however, did not notice it. After breakfast people came up on deck. Therewas a wonderful avoidance of hurry, alike by officers and sailors. Orderswere given calmly and quietly, and as calmly and quietly obeyed. Officerswere still up on the bridge, although there were no commands to give tothe man at the wheel and no screw turning. The helmsman stood at thewheel as if he expected at any time the order to turn it port orstarboard. All this absence of rush had a very soothing effect on thepassengers, many of whom wanted only a slight excuse to becomehysterical. As the day wore on, however, a general feeling of securityseemed to have come upon all on board. They one and all congratulatedthemselves on the fact that they had behaved in a most exemplary mannerconsidering the somewhat alarming circumstances. Nevertheless, those whowatched the captain saw that he swept the long line of the horizonthrough his glass every now and then with a good deal of anxiety, andthey noticed on looking at the long level line where sea and sky metthat not a sail was visible around the complete circle. Up from theengine-room came the clank of hammers, and the opinion was general that, whatever was amiss with the engine, it was capable of being repaired. Onething had become certain, there was nothing wrong with the shafts. Thedamage, whatever it was, had been to the engine alone. All of thepassengers found themselves more or less affected by the peculiarsensation of the steamer being at rest--the awe-inspiring and helplessconsciousness of complete silence--after the steady throb they had becomeso accustomed to all the way across. That night at dinner the captaintook his place at the head of the table, urbane and courteous, as ifnothing unusual had happened; and the people, who, notwithstanding theiroutward calmness, were in a state of anxious tension, noticed this withgratified feelings. 

'What is the matter?' asked a passenger of the captain; 'and what is theextent of the accident?'

The captain looked down the long table. 

'I am afraid, ' said he, 'that if I went into technical details you wouldnot understand them. There was a flaw in one of the rods connected withthe engine. That rod broke, and in breaking it damaged other parts ofthe machinery. Doubtless you heard the three thuds which it gave beforethe engine was stopped. At present it is impossible to tell how long itwill take to repair the damage. However, even if the accident wereserious, we are right in the track of vessels, and there is no danger. '

This was reassuring; but those who lay awake that night heard theominous sound of the pumps, and the swishing of water splashing downinto the ocean. 

CHAPTER XII. 

Most of the passengers awoke next morning with a bewildering feeling ofvague apprehension. The absence of all motion in the ship, the unusualand intense silence, had a depressing effect. The engines had not yetstarted; that at least was evident. Kenyon was one of the first on deck. He noticed that the pumps were still working at their full speed, andthat the steamer had still the unexplained list to port. Happily, theweather continued good, so far as the quietness of the sea was concerned. A slight drizzle of rain had set in, and the horizon was not many milesfrom the ship. There would not be much chance of sighting another linerwhile such weather continued. 

Before Kenyon had been many minutes on deck, Edith Longworth came up thecompanion-way. She approached him with a smile on her face. 

'Well, ' he said, 'you, at least, do not seem to be suffering any anxietybecause of our situation. '

'Really, ' she replied, 'I was not thinking of that at all, but aboutsomething else. Can you not guess what it is?'

'No, ' he answered hesitatingly. 'What is it?'

'Have you forgotten that this is Sunday morning?'

'Is it? Of course it is. So far as I am concerned, time seemed to stopwhen the engines broke down. But I do not understand why Sunday morningmeans anything in particular. '

'Don't you? Well, for a person who has been thinking for the last two orthree days very earnestly on one particular subject, I am astonished atyou. Sunday morning and no land in sight! Reflect for a moment. '

Kenyon's face brightened. 

'Ah, ' he cried, 'I see what you mean now! Miss Brewster's cable messagewill not appear in this morning's _New York Argus_. '

'Of course it will not; and don't you see, also, that when we do arriveyou will have an equal chance in the race. If we get in before nextSunday, your telegram to the London people will go as quickly as hercable despatch to New York; thus you will be saved the humiliation ofseeing the substance of your report in the London papers before thedirectors see the report itself. It is not much, to be sure, but, still, it puts you on equal terms; while if we had got into Queenstown lastnight that would have been impossible. '

Kenyon laughed. 

'Well, ' he said, 'for such a result the cause is rather tremendous, isn'tit? It is something like burning down the house to roast the pig!'

Shortly after ten o'clock the atmosphere cleared, and showed in thedistance a steamer, westward bound. The vessel evidently belonged to oneof the great ocean lines. The moment it was sighted there fluttered up tothe masthead a number of signal-flags, and people crowded to the side ofthe ship to watch the effect on the outgoing vessel. Minute after minutepassed, but there was no response from the other liner. People watchedher with breathless anxiety, as though their fate depended on hernoticing their signals. Of course, everybody thought she must see them, but still she steamed westward. A cloud of black smoke came out of herfunnel, and then a long dark trail, like the tail of a comet, floated outbehind; but no notice was taken of the fluttering flags at the masthead. For more than an hour the steamer was in sight. Then she gradually fadedaway into the west, and finally disappeared. 

This incident had a depressing effect on the passengers of the disabledship. Although every officer had maintained there was no danger, yet thefloating away of that steamer seemed somehow to leave them alone; andpeople, after gazing toward the west until not a vestige of her remainedin the horizon, went back to their deck-chairs, feeling more despondentthan ever. 

Fleming, however, maintained that if people had to drown, it was just aswell to drown jolly as mournful, and so he invited everybody to take adrink at his expense--a generous offer, taken instant advantage of by allthe smoking-room frequenters. 

'My idea is this, ' said Fleming, as he sipped the cocktail which wasbrought to him, 'if anything happens, let it happen; if nothing happens, why, then let nothing happen. There is no use worrying about anything, especially something we cannot help. Here we are on the ocean in adisabled vessel--very good; we cannot do anything about it, and so longas the bar remains open, gentlemen, here's to you!'

And with this cheerful philosophy the New York politician swallowed theliquor he had paid for. 

Still the swish of water from the pumps could be heard, but the metallicclanking of steel on steel no longer came up from the engine-room. Thisin itself was ominous to those who knew. It showed that the engineer hadgiven up all hope of repairing the damage, whatever it was, and the realcause of the disaster was as much a mystery as ever. Shortly before lunchit became evident to people on board the ship that something was about tobe done. The sailors undid the fastenings of one of the large boats, andswung it out on the davits until it hung over the sea. 

Gradually rumour took form, and it became known that one of the officersand certain of the crew were about to make an attempt to reach the coastof Ireland and telegraph to Queenstown for tugs to bring the steamer in. The captain still asserted that there was no danger whatever, and it wasonly to prevent delay that this expedient was about to be tried. 

'Do you know what they are going to do?' cried Edith Longworth, in astate of great excitement, to John Kenyon. 

Kenyon had been walking the deck with Wentworth, who now had gone below. 

'I have heard, ' said Kenyon, 'that they intend trying to reach thecoast. '

'Exactly. Now, why should you not send a telegram to your people inLondon, and have the reports forwarded at once? The chances are thatMiss Brewster will never think of sending her cablegram with the officerwho is going to make the trip; then you will be a clear day or two aheadof her, and everything will be all right. In fact, when she understandswhat has been done, she probably will not send her own message at all. '

'By George!' cried Kenyon, 'that is a good idea. I will see the mate atonce, and find out whether he will take a telegram. '

He went accordingly, and spoke to the mate about sending a message withhim. The officer said that any passenger who wished to send a telegraphicmessage would be at liberty to do so. He would take charge of thetelegrams very gladly. Kenyon went down to his state-room and toldWentworth what was going to be done. For the first time in several daysGeorge Wentworth exhibited something like energy. He went to the stewardand bought the stamps to put on the telegram, while John Kenyon wrote it. 

The message was given to the officer, who put it into his inside pocket, and then Kenyon thought all was safe. But Edith Longworth was not so sureof that. Jennie Brewster sat in her deck-chair calmly reading her usualpaper-covered novel. She apparently knew nothing of what was going on, and Edith Longworth, nervous with suppressed excitement, sat near her, watching her narrowly, while preparations for launching the boat werebeing completed. Suddenly, to Edith's horror, the deck-steward appeared, and in a loud voice cried:

'Ladies and gentlemen, anyone wishing to send telegrams to friends has afew minutes now to write them. The mate will take them ashore with him, and will send them from the first office that he reaches. No letters canbe taken, only telegrams. '

Miss Brewster looked up languidly from her book during the first part ofthis recital. Then she sprang suddenly to her feet, and threw the bookon the deck. 

'Who is it will take the telegrams?' she asked the steward. 

'The mate, miss. There he is standing yonder, miss. '

She made her way quickly to that official. 

'Will you take a cable despatch to be sent to New York?'

'Yes, miss. Is it a very long one?' he asked. 

'Yes, it is a very long one. '

'Well, miss, ' was the answer, 'you haven't much time to write it. Weleave now in a very few minutes. '

'It is all written out; I have only to add a few words to it. '

Miss Brewster at once flew to her state-room. The telegram about the minewas soon before her with the words counted, and the silver and gold thatwere to pay for it piled on the table. She resolved to run no risk ofdelay by having the message sent 'to collect. ' Then she dashed off, asquickly as she could, a brief and very graphic account of the disasterwhich had overtaken the _Caloric_. If this account was slightlyexaggerated, Miss Brewster had no time to tone it down. Picturesque anddramatic description was what she aimed at. Her pen flew over the paperwith great rapidity, and she looked up every now and then, through herstate-room window, to see dangling from the ropes the boat that was tomake the attempt to reach the Irish coast. As she could thus see how thepreparations for the departure were going forward, she lingered longerthan she might otherwise have done, and added line after line to thedespatch which told of the disaster. At last she saw the men take theirplaces in the longboat. She hurriedly counted the words in the newdespatch she had written, and quickly from her purse piled the gold thatwas necessary to pay for their transmission. Then she sealed the twodespatches in an envelope, put the two piles of gold into one afterrapidly counting them again, cast a quick look up at the still motionlessboat, grasped the gold in one hand, the envelope in the other, and sprangto her feet; but, as she did so, she gave a shriek and took a stepbackwards. 

Standing with her back to the door was Edith Longworth. When she hadentered the state-room, Miss Brewster did not know, but her heart beatwildly as she saw the girl standing silently there, as if she had risenup through the floor. 

'What are you doing here?' she demanded. 

'I am here, ' said Miss Longworth, 'because I wish to talk with you. '

'Stand aside; I have no time to talk to you just now. I told you I didn'twant to see you again. Stand aside, I tell you. '

'I shall not stand aside. '

'What do you mean?'

'I mean that I shall not stand aside. '

'Then I will ring the bell and have you thrust out of here for yourimpudence. '

'You shall not ring the bell, ' said Edith calmly, putting her hand overthe white china plaque that held in its centre the black electric button. 

'Do you mean to tell me that you intend to keep me from leaving my ownstate-room?'

'I mean to tell you exactly that. '

'Do you know that you can be imprisoned for attempting such a thing?'

'I don't care. '

'Stand aside, you vixen, or I will strike you!'

'Do it. '

For a moment the two girls stood there, the one flushed and excited, theother apparently calm, with her back against the door and her hand overthe electric button. A glance through the window showed Miss Brewsterthat the mate had got into the boat, and that they were steadilylowering away. 

'Let me pass, you--you wretch!'

'All in good time, ' replied Edith Longworth, whose gaze was also upon theboat swinging in mid-air. 

Jennie Brewster saw at once that, if it came to a hand-to-hand encounter, she would have no chance whatever against the English girl, who was inevery way her physical superior. She had her envelope in one hand and thegold in the other. She thrust both of them into her pocket, which, aftersome fumbling, she found. Then she raised her voice in one of theshrillest screams which Edith Longworth had ever heard. As if in answerto that ear-piercing sound, there rose from the steamer a loud andringing cheer. Both glanced up to see where the boat was, but it was notin sight. Several ropes were dangling down past the porthole. MissBrewster sprang up on the sofa, and with her small hands turned roundthe screw which held the window closed. 

Edith Longworth looked at her without making any attempt to prevent theunfastening of the window. 

Jennie Brewster flung open the heavy brass circle which held the thickgreen glass, and again she screamed at the top of her voice, crying'Help!' and 'Murder!'

The other did not move from her position. In the silence that followed, the steady splash of oars could be heard, and again a rousing cheer rangout from those who were left upon the motionless steamer. Edith Longworthraised herself on tiptoe and looked out of the open window. On the crestof a wave, five hundred yards away from the vessel, she saw the boat fora moment appear, showing the white glitter of her six dripping oars; thenit vanished down the other side of the wave into the trough of the sea. 

'Now, Miss Brewster', she said, 'you are at liberty to go. '

CHAPTER XIII. 

After Edith Longworth left her, Jennie Brewster indulged in a brief spasmof hysterics. Her common-sense, however, speedily came to her rescue;and, as she became more calm, she began to wonder why she had notassaulted the girl who had dared to imprison her. She dimly rememberedthat she thought of a fierce onslaught at the time, and she alsorecollected that her fear of the boat leaving during the struggle hadstayed her hand. But now that the boat had left she bitterly regrettedher inaction, and grieved unavailingly over the fact that she hadstopped to write the account of the disaster which befell the _Caloric_. Had she not done so, all might have been well, but her great ambition tobe counted the best-newspaper woman in New York, and to show the editorthat she was equal to any emergency that might arise, had undone her. While it would have been possible for her to send away one telegram, herdesire to write the second had resulted in her sending none at all. Although she impugned her own conduct in language that one would not haveexpected to have heard from the lips of a millionaire's daughter, heranger against Edith Longworth became more intense, and a fierce desirefor revenge took possession of the fair correspondent. She resolved thatshe would go up on deck and shame this woman before everybody. She wouldattract public attention to the affair by tearing Edith Longworth fromher deck-chair, and in her present state of mind she had no doubt of herstrength to do it. With the yearning for vengeance fierce and strong uponher, the newspaper woman put on her hat and departed for the deck. Shepassed up one side and down the other, but her intended victim was notvisible. The rage of Miss Brewster increased when she did not find herprey where she expected. She had a fear that, when she calmed down, adifferent disposition would assert itself, and her revenge would be lost. In going to and fro along the deck she met Kenyon and Fleming walkingtogether. Fleming had just that moment come up to Kenyon, who was quietlypacing the deck alone, and, slapping him on the shoulder, asked him tohave a drink. 

'It seems to me, ' he said, 'that I never have had the pleasure ofoffering you a drink since we came on board this ship. I want to drinkwith everybody here, and especially now, when something has happened tomake it worth while. '

'I am very much obliged to you, ' said John Kenyon coldly, 'but I neverdrink with anybody. '

'What, never touch it at all? Not even beer?'

'Not even beer. '

'Well, I am astonished to hear that. I thought every Englishman drankbeer. '

'There is at least one Englishman who does not. '

'All right, then; no harm done, and no offence given, I hope. I may say, however, that you miss a lot of fun in this world. '

'I suppose I miss a few headaches also. '

'Oh, not necessarily. I have one great recipe for not having a headache. You see, this is the philosophy of headaches. ' And then, much to John'schagrin, he linked arms with him and changed his step to suit Kenyon's, talking all the time as if they were the most intimate friends in theworld. 'I have a sure plan for avoiding a headache. You see, when youlook into the matter, it is this way: The headache only comes when youare sober. Very well, then. It is as simple as A B C. Never get sober;that's my plan. I simply keep on, and never get sober, so I have noheadaches. If people who drink would avoid the disagreeable necessity ofever getting sober, they would be all right. Don't you see what I mean?'

'And how about their brains in the meantime?'

'Oh, their brains are all right. Good liquor sharpens a man's brainswonderfully. Now, you try it some time. Let me have them mix a cocktailfor you? I tell you, John, a cocktail is one of the finest drinks thatever was made, and this man at the bar--when I came on board, he thoughthe could make a cocktail, but he didn't know even the rudiments--I havetaught him how to do it; and I tell you that secret will be worth afortune to him, because if there is anything Americans like, it is tohave their cocktails mixed correctly. There's no one man in all Englandcan do it, and very few men on the Atlantic service. But I'm graduallyeducating them. Been across six times. They pretend to give you Americandrinks over in England, but you must know how disappointing they are. '

'I'm sure I don't see how I should know, for I never taste any of them. '

'Ah, true; I had forgotten that. Well, I took this bar-keeper here inhand, and he knows now how to make a reasonably good cocktail; and, as Isay, that secret will be worth money to him from American passengers. '

John Kenyon was revolving in his mind the problem of how to get rid ofthis loquacious and generous individual, when he saw, bearing down uponthem, the natty figure of Miss Jennie Brewster; and he wondered why sucha look of bitter indignation was flashing from her eyes. He thought thatshe intended to address the American politician, but he was mistaken. Shecame directly at him, and said in an excited tone, with a ring of angerin it:

'Well, John Kenyon, what do you think of your work?'

'What work?' asked the bewildered man. 

'You know very well what work I mean. A fine specimen of a man you are!Without the courage yourself to prevent my sending that telegram, youinduced your dupe to come down to my state-room and brazenly keep me fromsending it. '

The blank look of utter astonishment upon the face of honest John Kenyonwould have convinced any woman in her senses that he knew nothing at allof what she was speaking. A dim impression of this, indeed, flashedacross the young woman's heated brain. But before she could speak, Fleming said:

'Tut, tut, my dear girl! you are talking too loud altogether. Do you wantto attract the attention of everybody on the deck? You mustn't make ascandal in this way on board ship. '

'Scandal!' she cried. 'We will soon see whether there will be a scandalor not. Attract the attention of those on deck! That is exactly what I amgoing to do, until I show up the villainy of this man you are talking to. He was the concocter of it, and he knows it. She never had brains enoughto think of it. He was too much of a coward to carry it through himself, and so he set her to do his dastardly piece of work. '

'Well, well, ' said Fleming, 'even if he has done all that, whatever itis, it will do no good to attract attention to it here on deck. See howeverybody is listening to what you are saying. My dear girl, you are tooangry to talk just now; the best thing you can do is to go down to yourstate-room. '

'Who asked you to interfere?' she cried, turning furiously upon him. 'I'll thank you to mind your own business, and let me attend to mine. Ishould have thought that you would have found out before this that I amcapable of attending to my own affairs. '

'Certainly, certainly, my dear child, ' answered the politiciansoothingly; 'I'm sorry I can't get you all to come and have a drink withme, and talk this matter over quietly. That's the correct way to dothings, not to stand here scolding on the deck, with everybody listening. Now, if you will quietly discuss the matter with John here, I'm sureeverything will be all right. '

'You don't know what you are talking about, ' replied the young lady. 'Doyou know that I had an important despatch to send to the _Argus_, andthat this man's friend, doubtless at his instigation, came into my roomand practically held me prisoner there until the boat had left, so that Icould not send the despatch? Think of the cheek and villainy of that, andthen speak to me of talking wildly!'

An expression of amazement upon Kenyon's face convinced the newspaperwoman, more than all his protestations would have done, that he knewnothing whatever of the escapade. 

'And who kept you from coming out?' asked Fleming. 

'It is none of your business, ' she replied tartly. 

'If you will believe me, ' said Kenyon at last, 'I had absolutely noknowledge of all this; so, you see, there is no use speaking to me aboutit. I won't pretend I am sorry, because I am not. '

This added fuel to the flames, and she was about to blaze out again, whenKenyon, turning on his heel, left her and Fleming standing facing eachother. Then the young woman herself turned and quickly departed, leavingthe bewildered politician entirely alone, so that there was nothing forhim to do but to go into the smoking-room and ask somebody else to drinkwith him, which he promptly did. 

Miss Brewster made her way to the captain's room and rapped at the door. On being told to enter, she found that officer seated at his table withsome charts before him, and a haggard look upon his face, which mighthave warned her that this was not the proper time to air any personalgrievances. 

'Well?' he said briefly as she entered. 

'I came to see you, captain, ' she began, 'because an outrageous thing hasbeen done on board this ship, and I desire reparation. What is more, Iwill have it!

'What is the "outrageous thing"?' asked the captain. 

'I had some despatches to send to New York, to the _New York Argus_, onwhose staff I am. '

'Yes, ' said the captain with interest; 'despatches relating to what hashappened to the ship?'

'One of them did, the other did not. '

'Well, I hope, ' said the captain, 'you have not given an exaggeratedaccount of the condition we are in. '

'I have given no account at all, simply because I was prevented fromsending the cablegrams. '

'Ah, indeed, ' said the captain, a look of relief coming over his face, inspite of his efforts to conceal it; 'and pray what prevented you fromsending your cablegrams? The mate would have taken any messages that weregiven to him. '

'I know that, ' cried the young woman; 'but when I was in my room writingthe last of the despatches, a person who is on board as a passengerhere--Miss Longworth--came into my room and held me prisoner there untilthe boat had left the ship. '

The captain arched his eyebrows in surprise. 

'My dear madam, ' he said, 'you make a very serious charge. Miss Longworthhas crossed several times with me, and I am bound to say that abetter-behaved young lady I never had on board my ship. '

'Extremely well behaved she is!' cried the correspondent angrily, 'shestood against my door and prevented me from going out. I screamed forhelp, but my screams were drowned in the cheers of the passengers whenthe boat left. '

'Why did you not ring your bell?'

'I couldn't ring my bell because she prevented me. Besides, if I hadreached the bell, it is not likely anybody would have answered it;everybody seemed to be bawling after the boat that was leaving. '

'You can hardly blame them for that. A great deal depends on the safetyof that boat. In fact, if you come to think about it, you will see thatwhatever grievance you may have, it is, after all, a very trivial onecompared with the burden that weighs on me just now, and I should muchprefer not to have anything to do with disputes between the passengersuntil we are out of our present predicament. '

'The predicament has nothing whatever to do with it. I tell you a fact. I tell you that one of your passengers came and imprisoned me in mystate-room. I come to you for redress. Now, there must be some law onshipboard that takes the place of ordinary law on land. I make thisdemand officially to you. If you decline to hear me, and refuse toredress my wrong, then I have public opinion, to which I can appealthrough my paper, and perhaps there will also be a chance of obtainingjustice through the law of the land to which I am going. '

'My dear madam, ' said the captain calmly, 'you must not use threats tome. I am not accustomed to be addressed in the tone you have taken uponyourself to use. Now tell me what it is you wish me to do?'

'It is for you to say what you will do. I am a passenger on board thisship, and am supposed to be under the protection of its captain. Itherefore tell you I have been forcibly detained in my state-room, and Idemand that the person who did this shall be punished. '

'You say that Miss Longworth is the person who did this?'

'Yes, I do. '

'Now, do you know you make a serious charge against that young lady--acharge that I find it remarkably difficult to believe? May I ask you whatreason she had for doing what you say she has done?'

'That is a long story. I am quite prepared to show that she tried tobribe me not to send a despatch, and, finding herself unsuccessful, sheforcibly detained me in my room until too late to send the telegram. '

The captain pondered over what had been said to him. 

'Have you any proof of this charge?'

'Proof! What do you mean? Do you doubt my word?'

'I mean exactly what I say. Have you anybody to prove the exceedinglyserious charge you bring?'

'Certainly not. I have no proof. If there had been a witness there, thething would not have happened. If I could have summoned help, it wouldnot have happened. How could I have any proof of such an outrage?'

'Well, do you not see that it is impossible for me to take action on yourunsupported word? Do you not see that, if you take further steps in thisextraordinary affair, Miss Longworth will ask you for proof of what youstate? If she denies acting as you say she did, and you fail to proveyour allegation, it seems to me that you will be in rather a difficultposition. You would be liable to a suit for slander. Just think thematter over calmly for the rest of the day before you take any furtheraction upon it, and I would strongly advise you not to mention this toanyone on board. Then to-morrow, if you are still in the same frame ofmind, come to me. '

Thus dismissed, the young woman left the captain's room, and met Flemingjust outside, who said:

'Look here, Miss Brewster, I want to have a word with you. You were verycurt with me just now. '

'Mr. Fleming, I do not wish to speak to you. '

'Oh, that's all right--that's all right; but let me tell you this: you'rea pretty smart young woman, and you have done me one or two very evilturns in your life. I have found out all about this affair, and it's oneof the funniest things I ever heard of. '

'Very funny, isn't it?' snapped the young woman. 

'Of course it's very funny; but when it appears in full in the oppositionpapers to the _Argus_, perhaps you won't see the humour of it--thougheverybody else in New York will, that's one consolation. '

'What do you mean?'

'I mean to say, Jennie Brewster, that unless you are a fool, you willdrop this thing. Don't, for Heaven's sake, let anybody know you weretreated by an English girl in the way you were. Take my advice: say nomore about it. '

'And what business is it of yours?'

'It isn't mine at all; that is why I am meddling with it. Aren't you wellenough acquainted with me to know that nothing in the world pleases me somuch as to interfere in other people's business? I have found out allabout the girl who kept you in, and a mighty plucky action it was too. Ihave seen that girl on the deck, and I like the cut of her jib. I likethe way she walks. Her independence suits me. She is a girl who wouldn'tgive a man any trouble, now, I tell you, if he were lucky enough to winher. And I am not going to see that girl put to any trouble by you, understand that!'

'And how are you going to prevent it, may I ask?'

'May you ask? Why, of course you may. I will tell you how I am goingto prevent it. Simply by restraining you from doing another thing inthe matter. '

'If you think you can do that, you are very much mistaken. I am going tohave that girl put in prison, if there is a law in the land. '

'Well, in the first place, we are not on land; and, in the second place, you are going to do nothing of the kind, because, if you do, I shall goto the London correspondents of the other New York papers and give thewhole blessed snap away. I'll tell them how the smart and cute Miss DollyDimple, who has bamboozled so many persons in her life, was once caughtin her own trap; and I shall inform them how it took place. And they'llbe glad to get it, you bet! It will make quite interesting reading in theNew York opposition papers some fine Sunday morning--about a column and ahalf, say. Won't there be some swearing in the _Argus_ when that appears!It won't be your losing the despatch you were going to send, but it willbe your utter idiocy in making the thing public, and letting the otherpapers on to it. Why, the best thing in the world for you to do, and the_only_ thing, is to keep as quiet as possible about it. I am astonishedat a girl of your sense, Dolly, making a public fuss like this, when youshould be the very one trying to keep it secret. '

The newspaper correspondent pondered on these words. 

'And if I keep quiet about it, will you do the same?'

'Certainly; but you must remember that if ever you attempt any of yourtricks of interviewing on me again, out comes this whole thing. Don'tforget that. '

'I won't, ' said Miss Jennie Brewster. 

And next morning, when the captain was anxiously awaiting her arrival inhis room, she did not appear. 

CHAPTER XIV. 

After all, it must be admitted that George Wentworth was a man ofsomewhat changeable character. For the last two or three days he had beenmoping like one who meditated suicide; now when everyone else wasanxiously wondering what was going to happen to the ship, he suddenlybecame the brightest individual on board. For a man to be moody anddistraught while danger was impending was not at all surprising; but fora man, right in the midst of gloom, to blossom suddenly out into ageneral hilarity of manner, was something extraordinary. People thoughtit must be a case of brain trouble. They watched the young man withinterest as he walked with a springy step up and down the deck. Every nowand again a bright smile illuminated his face, and then he seemed to beashamed that people should notice he was feeling so happy. When he wasalone he had a habit of smiting his thigh and bursting out into a laughthat was long and low, rather than loud and boisterous. No one was moreastonished at this change than Fleming, the politician. George met him ondeck, and, to the great surprise of that worthy gentleman, smote him onthe back and said:

'My dear sir, I am afraid the other day, when you spoke to me, I answereda little gruffly. I beg to apologize. Come and have a drink with me. '

'Oh, don't mention it, ' said Fleming joyously; 'we all of us have ourlittle down-turns now and then. Why, I have them myself, when liquor isbad or scarce! You mightn't believe it, but some days I feel away down inthe mouth. It is true I have a recipe for getting up again, which Ialways use. And that reminds me: do you remember what the Governor ofNorth Carolina said to the Governor of South Carolina?'

'I'm sure I don't know, ' said Wentworth; 'you see, I'm not very wellversed in United States politics. '

'Well, there wasn't much politics about his remark. He merely said, "It's a long time between drinks;" come in and have something with me. It seems to me you haven't tasted anything in my company since thevoyage began. '

'I believe, ' said Wentworth, 'that is a true statement. Let us amend itas soon as possible, only in this case let me pay for the drinks. Iinvited you to drink with me. '

'Not at all, not at all!' cried Fleming; 'not while I'm here. This is mytreat, and it is funny to think that a man should spend a week withanother man without knowing him. Really, you see, I haven't known youtill now. '

And so the two worthy gentlemen disappeared into the smoking-room andrang the electric bell. 

But it was in his own state-room that George Wentworth's jocularity cameout at its best. He would grasp John Kenyon by the shoulder and shakethat solemn man, over whose face a grim smile generally appeared when henoticed the exuberant jollity of his comrade. 

'John, ' Wentworth cried, 'why don't you laugh?'

'Well, it seems to me, ' replied his comrade, 'that you are doing laughingenough for us both. It is necessary to have one member of the firm solidand substantial. I'm trying to keep the average about right. When youwere in the dumps I had to be cheerful for two. Now that you feel solively, I take a refuge in melancholy, to rest me after my hard effortsat cheerfulness. '

'Well, John, it seems to me too good to be true. What a plucky girl shewas to do such a thing! How did she know but that the little vixen had arevolver with her, and might have shot her?'

'I suppose she didn't think about it at all. '

'Have you seen her since that dramatic incident?'

'Seen whom? Miss Brewster?'

'No, no; I mean Miss Longworth. '

'No, she hasn't appeared yet. I suppose she fears there will be a scene, and she is anxious to avoid it. '

'Very likely that is the case, ' said Wentworth. 'Well, if you do see her, you can tell her there is no danger. Our genial friend, Fleming, has hada talk with that newspaper woman, so he tells me, and the way hedescribes it is exceedingly picturesque. He has threatened her withgiving away the "snap, " as he calls it, to the other New York papers, andit seems that the only thing on earth Miss Brewster is afraid of is theopposition press. So she has promised to say nothing more whatever aboutthe incident. '

'Then, you have been talking with Fleming?'

'Certainly I have; a jovial good fellow he is, too. I have been doingsomething more than talking with him; I have been drinking with him. '

'And yet a day or two ago, I understand, you threatened to strike him. '

'A day or two ago, John! It was ages and ages ago. A day or two isn't init. That was years and centuries since, as it appears to me. I was an oldman then; now I have become young again, and all on account of the pluckyaction of that angel of a girl of yours. '

'Not of mine, ' said Kenyon seriously; 'I wish she were. '

'Well, cheer up. Everything will come out right; you see, it always does. Nothing looked blacker than this matter about the telegram a few daysago, and see how beautifully it has turned out. '

Kenyon said nothing. He did not desire to discuss the matter even withhis best friend. The two went up on deck together, and took a few turnsalong the promenade, during which promenade the eyes of Kenyon weredirected to the occupants of the deckchairs, but he did not see theperson whom he sought. Telling Wentworth he was going below for a moment, he left him to continue his walk alone, and on reaching the saloon Kenyonspoke to a stewardess. 

'Do you know if Miss Longworth is in her stateroom?'

'Yes, sir, I think she is, ' was the answer. 

'Will you take this note to her?'

John sat down to wait for an answer. The answer did not come by the handof the stewardess. Edith herself timorously glanced into the saloon, and, seeing Kenyon alone, ventured in. He sprang up to meet her. 

'I was afraid, ' he said, 'that you had been ill. '

'No, not quite, but almost, ' she answered. 'Oh, Mr. Kenyon, I have donethe most terrible thing! You could not imagine that I was so bold andwicked;' and tears gathered in the eyes of the girl. 

Kenyon stretched out his hand to her, and she took it. 

'I am afraid to stay here with you, ' she said, 'for fear----'

'Oh, I know all about it, ' said Kenyon. 

'You cannot know about it; you surely do not know what I have done?'

'Yes, I know exactly what you've done; and we all very much admire yourpluck. '

'It hasn't, surely, been the talk of the ship?'

'No, it has not; but Miss Brewster charged me with being an accomplice. '

'And you told her you were not, of course?'

'I couldn't tell her anything, for the simple reason that I hadn't thefaintest idea what she was talking about; but that's how I came to knowwhat had happened, and I am here to thank you, Miss Longworth, for youraction. I really believe you have saved the sanity of my friendWentworth. He is a different man since the incident we are speaking ofoccurred. '

'And have you seen Miss Brewster since?'

'Oh yes; as I was telling you, she met me on the deck. Dear me! howthoughtless of me! I had forgotten you were standing. Won't you sitdown?'

'No, no; I have been in my room so long that I am glad to standanywhere. '

'Then, won't you come up on deck with me?'

'Oh, I'm afraid, ' she said. 'I am afraid of a public scene; and I amsure, by the last look I caught in that girl's eyes, she will stop at noscandal to have her revenge. I am sorry to say that I am too much of acoward to meet her. Of course, from her point of view I have done hereternal wrong. Perhaps it was wrong from anybody's point of view. '

'Miss Longworth, ' said John Kenyon cordially, 'you need have no fearwhatever of meeting her. She will say nothing. '

'How do you know that?'

'Oh, it is a long story. She went to the captain with her complaint, andreceived very little comfort there. I will tell you all about it on deck. Get a wrap and come with me. '

As Kenyon gave this peremptory order, he realized that he was taking aliberty he had no right to take, and his face flushed as he wondered ifEdith would resent the familiarity of his tones; but she merely looked upat him with a bright smile, and said:

'I will do, sir, as you command. '

'No, no, ' said Kenyon; 'it was not a command, although it sounded likeone. It was a very humble request; at least, I intended it to be such. '

'Well, I will get my wrap. '

As she left for her state-room, a rousing cheer was heard from on deck. She stopped, and looked at Kenyon. 

'What does that mean?' she asked. 

'I do not know, ' was the answer. 'Please get your things on and we willgo up and see. '

When they reached the deck they saw everybody at the forward part of theship. Just becoming visible in the eastern horizon were three trails ofblack smoke, apparently coming towards them. 

The word was whispered from one to the other: 'It is the tug-boats. Itis relief. '

Few people on board the steamer knew that their very existence dependedentirely on the good weather. The incessant pumping showed everybody, whogave a thought to the matter, that the leak had been serious; but as thesubsidence of the vessel was imperceptible to all save experts, no onebut the officers really knew the grave danger they were in. Glad as thepassengers were to see those three boats approach, the one who mostrejoiced was the one who knew everything respecting the disaster and itseffects--the captain. 

Edith Longworth and John Kenyon paced the deck together, and did not formtwo of the crowd who could not tear themselves away from the front ofthe ship, watching the gradually approaching tug boats. Purposely, JohnKenyon brought the girl who was with him past Miss Jennie Brewster, andalthough that person glared with a good deal of anger at Edith, whoblushed to her temples with fear and confusion, yet nothing was said; andKenyon knew that afterwards his companion would feel easier in her mindabout meeting the woman with whom she had had such a stormy five minutes. The tug boats speedily took the big steamer in tow, and slowly the fourof them made progress towards Queenstown, it having been resolved to landall the passengers there, and to tow the disabled vessel to Liverpool, ifan examination of the hull showed such a course to be a safe one. Thepassengers bade each other good-bye after they left the tender, and manythat were on board that ship never saw each other again. One at least, had few regrets and no good-byes to make, but a surprise was in store forher. Jennie Brewster found a cablegram from New York waiting for her. Itsaid 'Cable nothing respecting mines. Letter follows. '

CHAPTER XV. 

London again! Muddy, drizzly, foggy London, London, with its well filledomnibuses tearing along the streets, more dangerous than the chariots ofRome, London, with its bustling thoroughfares, with its traffic blockedat the corners by the raised white gloved hand of the policeman, London, with the four wheeled growler piled high with luggage, and the dashinghansom whirling along, missing the wheels of other vehicles by half aninch, while its occupant sits serenely smoking, or motioning hisdirections to his cabman with an umbrella; London, with its constantlymoving procession of every sort of wheeled carriage, from the four-horsedcoach to the coster barrow. London, London, London, London! the nameseemed to ring in John Kenyon's ears as he walked briskly along thecrowded pavement towards the City. The roar of its busy streets was thesweetest music in the world to him, as it is to every man who has onceacquired the taste for London. Drink of the fountain of Trevi, and youwill return to Rome. Drink of the roar and the bustle of London, and noother metropolis in the world, can ever satisfy the city-hunger in youagain. London is London, and John Kenyon loved its very disadvantages ashe strode along the streets. 

He called at the office of George Wentworth, took that young man withhim, and together they went to the place where the adjourned meeting ofthe London Syndicate was to be held. There were questions to be asked ofthe two young men, and the directors couldn't quite see why the reportshad been so suddenly precipitated upon them, before the arrival of theexperts they had sent out. So they had merely read the documents at theformer meeting and adjourned until such time as the two young men couldappear in person. Most of the directors were there, but, though Kenyonlooked anxiously among them, he did not see the face of old Mr. Longworth. Questions were asked Kenyon about the position of the mines, about their output, and such other particulars as the directors wishedto know. Then Wentworth underwent a similar examination. He pointed outthe discrepancies which he had found in the accounts. He showed thatthere was an evident desire on the part of the owners of the differentmines to make it appear that the properties paid better than theyactually did, and he answered in a clear and satisfactory way all thequestions asked him. The chairman thanked the young men for the evidentcare with which they had done their work, and the meeting then went intoa private session to consider what action should be taken respecting themines. When the two friends got out of the building, Kenyon said:

'Well, thank goodness that is over and done with. Now, George, what haveyou to suggest with reference to the mica-mine?'

'I think, ' said Wentworth, 'we had better adjourn to my office and have atalk over the matter quietly there. Let us go into private session as thedirectors have done. I feel rich after having got my cheque, and the voteof thanks from the chairman; so I will spend a shilling on a hansom andget there with speed and comfort. Actually, since I have got back toLondon, I am spending all my surplus cash on hansoms. They are certainlythe best and cheapest vehicles in the world. Think of what that piratecharged us for a ride from the hotel to the steamer in New York. '

'I don't like to think of it, ' said Kenyon; 'it makes me shudder!'

'Do you know, John, I should not be inconsolable if I never saw the greatcity of New York again. London is good enough for me. '

'Oh, I don't know! New York is all right. I confess there are one or twoof her citizens that I do not care much about. '

'Ah, ' said Wentworth; then, after a few moments' reflection, he remarkedsuddenly, apropos of nothing: 'Do you know, John, I was very nearly inlove with that girl?'

'I thought you were drifting in that direction. '

'Drifting! It wasn't drifting. It was a mad plunge down the rapids, andit is only lately I have begun to think what a close shave I had of it. The horror of those days, when I thought that despatch was going to NewYork, completely obliterated any other feeling in regard to her. If I hadfound she was a hopeless flirt, or something of that kind, who wastrifling with me, I should have been very much shocked, of course, but Ishould have thought about my own feelings. Now, the curious thing is thatI never began to think about them till I got to London. '

'Very well, Wentworth; I wouldn't think about them now, if I were you. '

'No, I don't intend to, particularly. The fact that I talk over them withyou shows that the impression was not very deep. '

Wentworth drew a long breath that might have been mistaken for a sigh, ifhe had not just before explained how completely free he was from thethraldom in which Miss Brewster at one time held him. 

'Still, she was a very pretty girl, John. You can't deny that. '

'I have no wish to deny it. I simply don't want to think about her atall. '

'No, and we don't need to, thank goodness. But she _was_ very bright andclever. Of course you didn't know her as I did. I never before metanyone who--Well, that's all past and done with. I told her all about ourmica-mine, and she gave me much sage advice. '

Kenyon smiled, but held his peace. 

'Oh yes, I know what you are thinking of. I spoke of other mines as well;still, that was my folly, and not her fault exactly. She imagined she wasdoing right, and after all, you know, I think we sometimes don't makeenough allowance for another's point of view. '

Kenyon laughed outright. 

'It seems to me you are actually defending her. My remembrance is thatyou didn't make much allowance for her point of view when your own pointwas that coil of rope in the front of the ship--those days when youwouldn't speak even to me. '

'I admit it, John. No, I'm not defending her. I have succeeded inputting her entirely out of my mind--with an effort. How about your owncase, John?'

'My own case! What do you mean?'

'You know very well what I mean. '

'I suppose I do forgive the little bit of affectation, will you? but aman gets somewhat nervous when such a question is sprung upon him. My owncase is just where we left it at Queenstown. '

'Haven't you seen her since?'

'No. '

'Aren't you going to?'

'I really do not know what I am going to do. '

'John, that young woman has a decided personal interest in you. '

'I wish I were sure of that, or, rather, I wish I were sure of it andin a position to--But what is the use of talking? I haven't a pennyto my name. '

'No; but if our mine goes through, you soon will have. '

'Yes, but what will it amount to? I never can forget the lofty disdainwith which a certain person spoke of fifty thousand pounds. It sends acold chill over me whenever I think of it. Fifty thousand pounds to herseemed so trivial; to me it was something that might be obtained afterthe struggle of a lifetime. '

'Well, I wouldn't let that discourage me too much if I were you; besides, you see--Oh! here we are. We'll talk about this some other time. '

Having paid the cabman, the two young men went upstairs into Wentworth'sroom, where they closed the door, and John drew up a seat by the side ofhis friend. 

'Now, then, ' said Wentworth, 'what have you done about the mine?'

'I have done absolutely nothing. I have been waiting for this conferencewith you. '

'Well, my boy, time is the great factor in anything of this sort. '

'Yes, I suppose it is. '

'You see, our option is running along; every day we lose is so much takenoff our chances of success. Have you anything to propose?'

'I'll tell you what I thought of doing. You know young Longworth spoke tome a good deal about the mine at one time. His cousin introduced me tohim, and she seemed to think he might take some interest in forming thecompany. I was to have a talk with you, because Longworth gave it as hisopinion that the amount should be put at two hundred thousand poundsrather than at fifty thousand pounds. '

Wentworth gave a long whistle. 

'Yes, it seems a very large amount; but he claims that if it would payten per cent. On that sum--if we could show that there was a reasonablechance of its paying so much--we could put it at two hundred thousand. '

'Well, that looks reasonable. What else did he say?'

'He did not say very much more about it, because I told him I should haveto consult you. '

'And why didn't you? On board ship there was one of the bestopportunities we could have had of having a talk with him. In fact, thewhole matter might perhaps have been arranged there. '

'Oh, well, you know, I couldn't talk to you about it, because a certaincircumstance arose, and you spent your time very much in the forwardpart of the steamer, sitting on a coil of rope and cursing the universegenerally and yourself in particular'. 

'Ah, yes, I remember, of course--yes. Very well, then, you have not seenyoung Longworth since, have you?'

'No, I have not. '

'Wouldn't the old gentleman go in for it?'

'His daughter seemed to think he would not, because the amount wastoo small. '

'Why couldn't he be got to go into it entirely by himself? If we put theprice up to one hundred thousand pounds or two hundred thousand pounds, that ought to be large enough for him, if he were playing a lone hand. '

'Well, you see, I don't suppose they thought of going in for it at that, except as a matter of speculation. Of course, if they intended to buysome shares, it is not likely they would propose to raise the price fromfifty thousand pounds to two hundred thousand pounds. Young Longworthspoke of dividing the profit. He claimed that whatever we made on fiftythousand pounds would be too small to be divided into three. I told him, of course, that you were my partner in this, and that is why he proposedthe price should be made two hundred thousand pounds. '

'I suppose he seemed indifferent on the question whether it should pay adividend on that amount of money or not?'

'He didn't mention that particularly--at least, he did not dwell upon it. He asked if it would pay a dividend on two hundred thousand, and I toldhim I thought it would pay ten per cent. If rightly managed; then he saidof course that was its price, and we should be great fools to float it atfifty thousand pounds when it was really worth two hundred thousand. '

Wentworth pondered for a few minutes on this, tapping his pencil on thedesk and knitting his brow. 

'It seems an awful jump, from fifty thousand pounds to two hundredthousand pounds, doesn't it, John?'

'Yes, it does; it has a certain look of swindling about it. But what aglorious thing it would be if it could be done, and if it would pay theright percentage when we got the scheme working!'

'Of course I wouldn't be connected, nor you either, with anything thatwas bogus. '

'Certainly not. I wouldn't think for a moment of inflating it if I werenot positive the property would stand it. I have been making, and havehere in my pocket, an elaborate array of figures which will showapproximately what the mine will yield, and I am quite convinced that itwill pay at least ten per cent. , and possible twelve or fifteen. '

'Well, nobody wants a better percentage on their money. Have you thefigures with you?'

'Yes, here they are. '

'Very well, you had better leave them with me, and I will go over them ascritically as if they were the figures of somebody I was deeplysuspicious of, I hope they will hold water; but if they do not, I willpoint out to you where the discrepancies are. '

'But, you see, George, it is more a question of facts than of figures. Ibelieve the whole mountain is made of the mineral which is so valuable, but I take only about an eighth of it as being possible to get out, whichseems to me a very moderate estimate. '

'Yes, but how much demand is there for it? That is the real question. Thething may be valuable enough, but if there is only a limited demand--thatis to say, if we have ten times the material that the world needs--theother nine parts are comparatively valueless. '

'That is true. '

'Do you know how many establishments there are in the world that usethis mineral?'

'There are a great many in England, and also in the United States. '

'And how about the duty on it in the United States?'

'Ah, that I do not know. '

'Well, we must find that out. Just write down here what it is used for;then I shall try to get some information about the factories that requireit, and also what quantities they need in a year. We shall have to getall these facts and figures to lay before the people who are going toinvest, because, as I understand it, the great point we make is not onthe mica, but on the other mineral. '

'Exactly. '

'Very well, then, you leave me what you know already about it, and I willtry to supplement your information. In fact, we shall have to supplementit, before we can go before anybody with it. Now, I advise you to see theLongworths--both old and young Longworth--and you may find that talkingwith them in the City of London is very different from talking with themon the _Caloric_. By the way, I wonder why Longworth was not at thedirectors' meeting to-day. '

'I do not know. I noticed he was absent. '

'He very likely intends to have nothing more to do with the other mines, and so there may be a possibility of his investing in ours. Do you knowhis address?'

'Yes, I have it with me. '

'Then, if I were you, I would jump into a hansom and go there at once. Meanwhile, I will try to get your figures into shipshape order, andsupplement them as far as it is possible to do so. This is going to be noeasy matter, John. There are a great many properties now being offeredto the public--the papers are full of them--and each of them appears tobe the most money-making scheme in existence; so if we are going to floatthis mine without knowing any particular capitalist, we have our work cutout for us. '

'Then, you would be willing to put the price up to two hundred thousandpounds?'

'Yes, if you say the mine will stand it. That we can tell better afterwe have gone over the figures together. We ought to be sure of ourfacts first. '

'Very well. Good-bye; I will go and see Mr. Longworth. '

CHAPTER XVI. 

John Kenyon did not take a cab. He walked so that he might have time tothink. He wanted to arrange in his mind just what he would say to Mr. Longworth, so he pondered over the coming interview as he walked throughthe busy streets of the City. 

He had not yet settled things satisfactorily to himself when he came tothe door leading to Mr. Longworth's offices. 

'After all, ' he said to himself, as he paused there, 'Mr. Longworth hasnever said anything to me about the mica-mine; and, from what hisdaughter thought, it is not likely that he will care to interest himselfin it. It was the young man who spoke about it. '

He felt that it was really the young man on whom he should call, but hewas rather afraid of meeting him. The little he had seen of WilliamLongworth on board the _Caloric_ had not given him a very high opinion ofthat gentleman, and he wondered if it would not have been better to havetold Wentworth that nothing was to be expected from the Longworths. However, he resolved not to shirk the interview, so passed up the stepsand into the outer office. He found the establishment much larger than hehad expected. At numerous desks there were numerous clerks writing awayfor dear life. He approached the inquiry counter, and a man came forwardto hear what he had to say. 

'Is Mr. Longworth in?'

'Yes, sir. Which Mr. Longworth do you want--the young gentleman or Mr. John Longworth?'

'I wish to see the senior member of the firm. '

'Ah! have you an appointment with him?'

'No, I have not; but perhaps if you will take this card to him, and if heis not busy, he may see me. '

'He is always very busy, sir. '

'Well, take the card to him; and if he doesn't happen to remember thename, tell him I met him on board the _Caloric_. '

'Very good, sir. ' And with that the clerk disappeared, leaving Kenyon toponder over in his mind the still unsettled question of what he shouldsay to Mr. Longworth if he were ushered into his presence. As he stoodthere waiting, with the host of men busily and silently working aroundhim, amid the general air of important affairs pervading the place, hemade up his mind that Mr. Longworth would not see him, and so was rathersurprised when the clerk came back without the card, and said, 'Will youplease step this way, sir?'

Passing through a pair of swinging doors, his conductor tapped lightly ata closed one, and then opened it. 

'Mr. Kenyon, sir, ' he said respectfully, and then closed the door behindhim, leaving John Kenyon standing in a large room somewhat handsomelyfurnished, with two desks near the window. From an inner room came themuffled click, click, click of a type-writer. Seated at one of the deskswas young Longworth, who did not look round as Kenyon was announced. Theelder gentleman, however, arose, and cordially held out his hand. 

'How are you, Mr. Kenyon?' he said. 'I am very pleased to meet you again. The terror of our situation on board that ship does not seem to have leftan indelible mark upon you. You are looking well. '

'Yes, ' said John; 'I am very glad to be back in London again. '

'Ah, I imagine we all like to get back. By the way, it was a much moreserious affair than we thought at the time on board the _Caloric_. '

'So I see by the papers. '

'How is your friend? He seemed to take it very badly. '

'Take what badly?' asked John in astonishment. 

'Well, he appeared to me, at the time of the accident, to feel verydespondent about our situation. '

'Oh yes, I remember now. Yes, he did feel a little depressed at the time;but it was not on account of the accident. It was another matteraltogether, which, happily, turned out all right. '

'I am glad of that. By the way, have you made your report to thedirectors yet?'

'Yes; we were at a meeting of the directors to-day. '

'Ah, I could not manage to be there. To tell the truth, I have made up mymind to do nothing with those Ottawa mines. You do not know what actionthe Board took in the matter, do you?'

'No, they merely received our report; in fact, they had had the reportbefore, but there were some questions they desired to ask us, which weanswered apparently to their satisfaction. '

'Who were there? Sir Ropes McKenna was in the chair, I suppose?'

'Yes, sir, he was there. '

'Ah, so I thought. Well, my opinion of him is that he is merely aguinea-pig--you know what that is? I have made up my mind to have nothingmore to do with the venture, at any rate. And so they were pleased withyour report, were they?'

'They appeared to be. They passed us a vote of thanks, and one or twoof the gentlemen spoke in rather a complimentary manner of what we haddone. '

'I am glad of that. By the way, William, you know Mr. Kenyon, do younot?'

The young man looked round with an abstracted air, and gazed past, ratherthan at, John Kenyon. 

'Kenyon, Kenyon, ' he said to himself, as if trying to recollect a namethat he had once heard somewhere. 'I really don't----'

'Tut, tut!' said the old man, 'you remember Mr. Kenyon on board the_Caloric_?'

'Oh, ah, yes; certainly--oh, certainly. How do you do, Mr. Kenyon? I hadforgotten for the moment. I thought I had met you in the City somewhere. Feeling first-rate after your trip, I hope. ' And young Mr. Longworthfixed his one eyeglass in its place and flashed its glitter on Kenyon. 

'I am very well, thanks. '

'That's right. Let me see, your business with the London Syndicate isconcluded now, is it not?'

'Yes, it is done with. '

'Ah, and what are you doing? Have you anything else on hand?'

'Well, that is what I wish to see you about. '

'Really?'

'Yes; I--you remember, perhaps, we had some talk about a mica-mine nearthe Ottawa River?'

'On my soul, I don't. You see, the voyage rather--that was on board ship, I suppose?'

'Yes, ' said John, crossing over to the young man's desk and taking achair beside him. The old gentleman now turned to his own papers, andleft the two young men to talk together. 

'Do you mean to say you don't remember a talk we had on deck once about amica-mine?'

Young Longworth looked at him with a puzzled expression, as if he couldnot quite make out what he was talking about. 

'I remember, ' he said, 'your telling me that you had been sent over bythe London Syndicate to see after certain mines there; but I don'tremember anything being said in reference to them. '

'It was not in reference to them at all; it was in reference to anothermine, of which I have secured the option. You will, perhaps, recollectthat your cousin introduced me to you. You seemed to think at the timethat the price at which we were going to offer the mine was too low. '

'By Jove, yes! now I do recollect something about it, when you mentionthat. Let me see, how much was it? A million, was it not?'

'No, no' said Kenyon, mopping his brow. He did not at all like the turnthe conversation had taken. 'Not a million, nor anything like thatamount. '

'Ah, I am sorry for that. You see, my uncle and myself rarely touchanything that is not worth while; and anything under a million would behardly worth bothering with, don't you know. '

'I don't think so; it seems to me that something below a million would beworth spending a little time on; at least, it would be worth _my_ while. '

'That may be very true; but, you see, my uncle takes large interests onlyin large businesses. '

'If you remember, Mr. Longworth, your uncle was not mentioned inconnection with this at all. Your cousin seemed to think you might takesome interest in it yourself. You told me, when I said the price at whichwe wished to offer the mine was fifty thousand pounds, that the sum wasaltogether too small; at least, it left too little margin to divideamongst three. '

'Well, I think I was perfectly correct in that. '

'And you further said that, if we increased the capital to two hundredthousand pounds, you would take a share in it with us. '

'Did I say that?'

'Yes. It rested with my partner then. I said I would speak to him aboutit, and, if he were willing, I should be. Circumstances occurred whichmade it impossible for me to go into details with him on board the ship;but I have spoken to him to-day at his own office, and he is quitewilling to offer the mine at two hundred thousand pounds, provided thefigures which I have given him show that it will pay a handsome dividendon that sum. '

'Well, it seems to me that, if the mine is really worth two hundredthousand pounds, it is a pity to offer it at fifty thousand pounds. Doesn't it strike you that way?'

'Yes, it does; so I called to see you with reference to it. I wanted tosay that Wentworth will go carefully over the figures I have given him, and see if there is any mistake about them. If there is not, and if wefind that the mine will bear inflation to two hundred thousand pounds, weshall be very glad of your aid in the matter, and will divide everythingequally with you. That is to say, each of us will take a third. '

'If I remember rightly, I asked you a question which you did not answer. I asked you how much you paid for the mine. '

Kenyon was astonished at this peculiar kind of memory, that could forgeta whole conversation, and yet remember accurately one detail of it. However, he replied:

'Of course, at that time you had not said you would join us. I recognisethat, if you are to be a partner, it is your right to know exactly whatwe pay for the mine. I may say that we have not paid for it, but havemerely got an option on it at a certain price, and of course, if we cansell it for two hundred thousand pounds, we shall have a large amount todivide. Now, if you think you will go in with us, and do your best tomake this project a success, I will tell you what our option is on themica-mine. '

'Well, you see, I can hardly say that I will join you. It is really avery small matter. There ought not to be any difficulty in floating thatmine on the London market, except that it is hardly worth one's while totake it up. Still, I should have to know exactly what you are to pay forthe property before I went any further in the matter. '

'Very well, then, I tell you in confidence, and only because I expectyou to become a partner with us, that the amount the mine is offered tous for is twenty thousand pounds. '

Young Longworth arched his eyeglass. 

'It cannot be worth very much if that is all they ask for it. '

'The price they ask for it has really nothing at all to do with the valueof the mine. They do not know the value of it. They are not working it, even now, so as to bring out all there is in it. They are mining formica, and, as I told you, the mineral which they are throwing away isvery much more valuable than all the mica they can get out of the mine. If it were worked rightly, the mica would pay all expenses, as well as agood dividend on fifty thousand pounds, while the other mineral would paya large dividend on one hundred and fifty thousand pounds, or even twohundred thousand pounds. '

'I see. And you feel positive that there is enough of this mineral tohold out for some time?'

'Oh, I am positive of that. There is a whole mountain of it. '

'And do you get the mountain as well as the mine?'

'We get three hundred acres of it, and I think there would be nodifficulty in buying the rest. '

'Well, that would seem to be a good speculation, and I am sure I hope youwill succeed in forming your company. How much money are you prepared tospend in floating the mine?'

'I have practically nothing at all. My asset, as it were, is the option Ihave on the mine. '

'Then, how are you going to pay the preliminary fees, the advertising inthe newspapers, the cost of counsel, and all that? These expenses willamount to something very heavy in the formation of a company. Of courseyou know that. '

'Well, you see, I think that perhaps we can get two or three men to gointo this and form our company quietly, without having any of those heavyexpenses which are necessary in the forming of some companies. '

'My dear sir, when you have been in this business a little longer, youwill be very much wiser. That cannot be done--at least, I do not believeit can be done. I do not know of its having been done, and if you can doit, you are a very much cleverer man than I am. Companies are not formedfor nothing in the City of London. You seem to have the vaguest possiblenotion about how this sort of thing is managed. I may tell you frankly Ido not think I can go in with you; I have too much else on hand. '

Although Kenyon expected this, he nevertheless felt a grim sense ofdefeat as the young man calmly said these words. Then he blurted out:

'If you had no idea of going in with us, why have you asked me certainquestions about the property which I would not have answered if I had notthought you were going to take an interest in it?'

'My dear sir, ' said the other blandly, 'you were at perfect liberty toanswer those questions or not, as you chose. You chose to answer them, and you have no one to blame but yourself if you are sorry you haveanswered them. It really doesn't matter at all to me, as I shall forgetall you have said in a day or two at furthest. '

'Very well; I have nothing more to say except that what I have told youhas been said in confidence. '

'Oh, of course. I shall mention it to nobody. '

'Then I wish you good-day. '

Turning to the elder gentleman, he said:

'Good-day, Mr. Longworth. '

The old man raised his eyes rather abstractedly from the paper he wasreading, and then cordially shook hands with Kenyon. 

'If I can do anything, ' he said, 'to help you in any matter you have onhand, I shall be very pleased to do it. I hope to see you succeed. Good-day, Mr. Kenyon. '

'Good-day, Mr. Longworth. '

And with that the young man found himself again in the outer office, andshortly afterwards in the busy street, with a keen sense of frustrationupon him. His first move in the direction of forming a company had been adisastrous failure; and thinking of this, he walked past the MansionHouse and down Cheapside. 

CHAPTER XVII. 

John Kenyon walked along Cheapside feeling very much downhearted over hisrebuff with Longworth. The pretended forgetfulness of the young man, ofcourse, he took at its proper value. He, nevertheless, felt very sorrythe interview had been so futile, and, instead of going back to Wentworthand telling him his experience, he thought it best to walk off a littleof his disappointment first. He was somewhat startled when a manaccosted him; and, glancing up, he saw standing there a tall footman, arrayed in a drab coat that came down to his heels. 

'I beg your pardon, sir, ' said the footman, 'but Miss Longworth wouldlike to speak to you. '

'Miss Longworth!' cried Kenyon, in surprise; 'where is she?'

'She is here in her carriage, sir. '

The carriage had drawn up beside the pavement, and John Kenyon lookedround in confusion to see that Miss Longworth was regarding him and thefootman with an amused air. An elderly woman sat in the carriage oppositeher, while a grave and dignified coachman, attired somewhat similarly tothe footman, kept his place like a seated statue in front. John Kenyontook off his hat as he approached the young woman, whom he had not seensince the last day on the steamer. 

'How are you, Mr. Kenyon?' said Edith Longworth brightly, holding out herhand to the young man by her carriage. 'Will you not step in? I want totalk with you, and I am afraid the police will not allow us to block sucha crowded thoroughfare as Cheapside. '

As she said this, the nimble footman threw open the door of the carriage, while John, not knowing what to say, stepped inside and took his seat. 

'Holborn, ' said the young woman to the coachman; then, turning to Kenyon, she continued: 'Will you not tell me where you are going, so that I mayknow where to set you down?'

'To tell the truth, ' said John, 'I do not think I was going anywhere. I am afraid I have not yet got over the delight of being back inLondon again, so I sometimes walk along the streets in rather apurposeless manner. '

'Well, you did not seem delighted when I first caught sight of you. Ithought you looked very dejected, and that gave me courage enough to askyou to come and talk with me. I said to myself, "There is something wrongwith the mica-mine, " and, with a woman's I curiosity, I wanted to knowall about it. Now tell me. '

'There is really very little to tell. We have hardly begun yet. Wentworth is to-day looking over the figures I gave him, and I have beenmaking a beginning by seeing some people who I thought might beinterested in the mine. '

'And were they?'

'No; they were not. '

'Then, that was the reason you were looking so distressed. '

'I suppose it was. '

'Well, now, Mr. Kenyon, if you get discouraged after an interview withthe first person you think will be interested in the mine, what will youdo when a dozen or more people refuse to have anything to do with it?'

'I'm sure I do not know. I am afraid I am not the right person to floata mine on the London market. I am really a student, you see, and flattermyself I am a man of science. I know what I am about when I am in amine, miles away from civilization; but when I get among men, I feelsomehow at a loss. I do not understand them. When a man tells me onething to-day, and to-morrow calmly forgets all about it, I confessit--well, confuses me. '

'Then the man you have seen to-day has forgotten what he told youyesterday. Is that the case?'

'Yes; that is partly the case. '

'But, Mr. Kenyon, the success of your project is not going to depend uponwhat one man says, or two, or three, is it?'

'No; I don't suppose it is. '

'Then, if I were you, I would not feel discouraged because one man hasforgotten. I wish I were acquainted with your one man, and I would makehim ashamed of himself, I think. '

Kenyon flushed as she said this, but made no reply. 

The coachman looked round as he came to Holborn, and Miss Longworthnodded to him; so he went on without stopping into Oxford Street. 

'Now, I take a great interest in your mine, Mr. Kenyon, and hope to seeyou succeed with it. I wish I could help you, or, rather, I wish youwould be frank with me, and tell me how I can help you. I know a gooddeal about City men and their ways, and I think I may be able to give yousome good advice--at least, if you would have the condescension toconsult me. '

Kenyon smiled. 

'You are making game of me now, Miss Longworth. Of course, as you said onboard ship, it is but a very small matter. '

'I never said any such thing. When did I say that?'

'You said that fifty thousand pounds was a small matter. '

'Did I? Well, I am like your man who has forgotten; I have forgottenthat. I remember saying something about its being too small an amountfor my father to deal with. Was not that what I said?'

'Yes, I think that was it. It conveyed the idea to my mind that youthought fifty thousand pounds a trifling sum indeed. '

Edith Longworth laughed. 

'What a terrible memory you have! I do not wonder at your City manforgetting. Are you sure what you told him did not happen longer ago thanyesterday?'

'Yes, it happened some time before. '

'Ah, I thought so; I am afraid it is your own terrible memory, and nothis forgetfulness, that is to blame. '

'Oh, I am not blaming him at all. A man has every right to change hismind, if he wants to do so. '

'I thought only a woman had that privilege. '

'No; for my part I freely accord it to everybody, only sometimes it is alittle depressing. '

'I can imagine that; in fact, I think no one could be a more undesirableacquaintance than a man who forgets to-day what he promised yesterday, especially if anything particular depends upon it. Now, why cannot youcome to our house some evening and have a talk about the mine with mycousin or my father? My father could give you much valuable advice withreference to it, and I am anxious that my cousin should help to carrythis project on to success. It is better to talk with them there than attheir office, because they are both so busy during the day that I amafraid they might not be able to give the time necessary to its Idiscussion. '

John Kenyon shook his head. 

'I am afraid, ' he said, 'that would do no good. I do not think yourcousin cares to have anything to do with the mine. '

'How can you say that? Did he not discuss the matter with you onboard ship?'

'Yes; we had some conversation about it there, but I imagine that--Ireally do not think he would care to go any farther with it. '

'Ah, I see, ' said Edith Longworth. 'My cousin is the man who "forgotto-day what he said yesterday. "'

'What am I to say, Miss Longworth? I do not want to say "Yes, " and Icannot truthfully say "No. "'

'You need say nothing. I know exactly how it has been. So he does notwant to have anything to do with it. What reason did he give?'

'You will not say anything to him about the matter? I should be verysorry if he thought that I talked to anyone else of my conferencewith him. '

'Oh, certainly not; I will say nothing to him at all. '

'He gave no particular reason; he simply seemed to have changed his mind. But I must say this: he did not appear to be very enthusiastic when Idiscussed it with him on board ship. '

'Well, you see, Mr. Kenyon, it rests with me now to maintain the honourof the Longworth family. Do you want to make all the profit there is tobe made in the mica-mine--that is, yourself and your friend Mr. Wentworth?'

'How do you mean--"all the profit"?'

'Well, I mean--would you share the profit with anyone?'

'Certainly, if that person could help us to form the company. '

'Very well; it was on that basis you were going to take in my cousin as apartner, was it not?'

'Yes. '

'Then I should like to share in the profits of the mine if he does nottake an interest in it. If you will let me pay the preliminary expensesof forming this company, and if you will then give me a share of what youmake, I shall be glad to furnish the money you need at the outset. '

John Kenyon looked at Miss Longworth with a smile. 

'You are very ingenious, Miss Longworth, but I can see, in spite of yourway of putting it, that what you propose is merely a form of charity. Suppose we did not succeed in forming our company, how could we repay youthe money?'

'You would not need to repay the money. I would take that risk. It is asort of speculation. If you form the company, then I shall expect a verylarge reward for furnishing the funds. It is purely selfishness on mypart. I believe I have a head for business. Women in this country do notget such chances of developing their business talents as they seem tohave in America. In that country there are women who have made fortunesfor themselves. I believe in your mine, and I am convinced you willsucceed in forming your company. If you or Mr. Wentworth werecapitalists, of course there would be no need of my assistance. If I werealone, I could not form a company. You and Mr. Wentworth can do what Icannot do. You can appear before the public and attend to allpreliminaries. On the other hand, I believe I can do what neither of youcan do; that is, I can supply a certain amount of money from time to timeto pay the expenses of forming the company--because a company is notformed in London for nothing, I assure you. Perhaps you think you havesimply to go and see a sufficient number of people and get your companyformed. I fancy you will find it not so easy as all that. Besides thisbusiness interest I have in it, I have a very friendly interest in Mr. Wentworth. '

As she said this, she bent over towards John Kenyon, and spoke in a lowertone of voice:

'Please do not tell him so, because I think that he is a young man whohas possibilities of being conceited. '

'I shall say nothing about it, ' said Kenyon dolefully. 

'Please do not. By the way, I wish you would give me Mr. Wentworth'saddress, so that I may communicate with him if a good idea occurs to me, or if I find out something of value in forming our company. '

Kenyon took out a card, wrote the address of Wentworth upon it, andhanded it to her. 

'Thank you, ' she said 'You see, I deeply sympathized with Mr. Wentworthfor what he had to pass through on the steamer. '

'He is very grateful for all you did for him on that occasion, ' repliedKenyon. 

'I am glad of that. People, as a general thing, are not grateful for whattheir friends do for them. I am glad, therefore, that Mr. Wentworth is anexception. Well, suppose you talk with him about what I have said, beforeyou make up your own mind. I shall be quite content with whatever shareof the profits you allow me. '

'Ah, that is not business, Miss Longworth. '

'No, it is not; but I am dealing with you--that is, with Mr. Wentworth--and I am sure both of you will do what is right. Perhaps itwould be better not to tell him who is to furnish the money. Just say youhave met a friend to-day who offers, for a reasonable share of theprofits, to supply all the money necessary for the preliminary expenses. You will consult with him about it, will you not?'

'Yes, if it is your wish. '

'Certainly it is my wish; and I also wish you to do it so diplomaticallythat you will conceal my name from him more successfully than youconcealed my cousin's name from me this afternoon. '

'I am afraid I am very awkward, ' said John, blushing. 

'No; you are very honest, that's all. You are not accomplished in the artof telling what is not true. Now, this is where we live; will you comein?'

'Thank you, no; I'm afraid not, ' said John. 'I must really be going now. '

'Let the coachman take you to your station. '

'No, no, it is not worth the trouble; it is only a step from here. '

'It is no trouble. Which is your station--South Kensington?'

'Yes. '

'Very well. Drive to South Kensington Station, Parker, ' she said to thecoachman; and then, running up the steps, she waved her hand in good-bye, as the carriage turned. 

And so John Kenyon, feeling abashed at his own poverty, was driven inthis gorgeous equipage to the Underground Railway station, where he tookthe train for the City. 

As he stepped from the carriage at South Kensington, young Mr. Longworthcame out of the station on his way home, and was simply dumfounded to seeKenyon in the Longworths' carriage. 

John passed him without noticing who he was, and just as the coachman wasgoing to start again, Longworth said to him:

'Parker, have you been picking up fares in the street?'

'Oh no, sir, ' replied the respectable Parker; 'the young gentleman asjust left us came from the City with Miss Longworth. '

'Did he, indeed? Where did you pick him up, Parker?'

'We picked him up in Cheapside, sir. '

'Ah, indeed;' and with that, muttering some imprecations on the cheek ofKenyon, he stepped into the carriage and drove home. 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

George Wentworth was a very much better man than John Kenyon to undertakethe commercial task they hoped to accomplish. Wentworth had mixed withmen, and was not afraid of them. Although he had suffered keenly from thelittle episode on the steamer, and although at that trying time heappeared to but poor advantage so far as an exhibition of courage wasconcerned, the reason was largely because the blow had been dealt him bya woman, and not by a man. If one of Wentworth's fellow-men so far forgothimself as to make an insulting or cutting remark to him, Wentworthmerely shrugged his shoulders and thought no more about it. On the otherhand, notwithstanding his somewhat cold and calm exterior, John Kenyonwas as sensitive as a child, and a rebuff such as he received from theLongworths was enough to depress him for a week. He had been a studentall his life, and had not yet learnt the valuable lesson of knowing howto look at men's actions with an eye to proportion. Wentworth said tohimself that nobody's opinion amounted to very much, but Kenyon knew toolittle of his fellows to have arrived at this comforting conclusion. 

George Wentworth closed his door when he was alone, drew the mass ofpapers, which Kenyon had left, towards him on his desk, and proceededsystematically to find a flaw in them if possible. He said to himself: 'Imust attack this thing without enthusiasm, and treat Kenyon as if he werea thief. I must find an error in the reasoning or something shaky aboutthe facts. ' He perused the papers earnestly, making pencil-marks on themargin here and there. At first he said to himself: 'It is quite evidentthat the mining of the mica will pay for the working of the mine. We canlook upon the demand for mica as being in a certain sense settled. It haspaid for the working of the mine so far, also a small dividend, and thereis no reason to think it should not go on doing so. Now, the uncertainquantity is this other stuff, and the uncertain thing about thisuncertain quantity is the demand for it in the markets of the world, alsohow much the carriage of it is going to cost. ' Wentworth had a theorythat all things were possible if you only knew a man who knew _the_ man. There is always _the_ man in everything--the man who is the authority oniron; the man who is the authority on mines; the man who is the authorityon the currency, and the man who knows all about the printing trade. Ifyou want any information on any particular subject, it was not necessaryto know _the_ man, but it was very essential to know a man who can puthis finger on _the_ man. Get a note of introduction from a man who knows_the_ man, and there you are!

Wentworth touched his bell, and a boy answered his summons. 

'Ask Mr. Close to step in here for a moment, will you, please?'

The boy disappeared, and shortly after an oldish man with a verydeferential look, who was perpetually engaged in smoothing one handover the other, came in, and, in a timid manner, closed the door softlybehind him. 

'Close, ' said Wentworth, 'who is it that knows everything about thechina trade?'

'About the china trade, sir?'

'Yes, about the china trade. '

'Wholesale or retail, sir?'

'I want to get at somebody who knows all about the manufacture of china. '

'Ah, the manufacture, sir, ' said Close, in a tone that indicated this wasanother matter altogether; 'the manufacture, sir; yes, sir, I really donot know who could tell everything about the manufacture of china, sir, but I know of a man who could put you on the right track. '

'Very well; that is quite as good. '

'I would see Mr. Melville, if I were you, sir--Mr. Melville, of the greatScranton China Company. '

'And what is his address?'

'His address is----' And here the old man stooped over and wrote it on acard. 'That will find him, sir. If you can drop a note to Mr. Melville, sir, and say you want to learn who knows all about the production ofchina, he will be able to tell you just the man, sir. He is in thewholesale china trade himself, sir. '

'Would he be in at this hour, do you think?'

'Oh yes, sir, he is sure to be in his office now. '

'Very well, then; I think I will just run over and see him. '

'Very good, sir; anything more, sir?'

'Nothing more, Close, thank you. '

When the valuable Close had departed as softly and apologetically as hehad entered, Wentworth picked up one of the specimens of spar whichKenyon had taken from the mine, and put it into his pocket. In twominutes more he was in a cab, dashing through the crowded streets towardsMelville's office. By the side of the door of the china company'swarehouse, inside the hall, were two parallel rows of names--one underthe general heading of 'Out, ' the other under the heading of 'In. ' Itappeared that Mr. Smith was out and Mr. Jones was in, but, what was moreto the purpose, the name of Richard Melville happened to be in the columnof those who were inside. After a few moments' delay, Wentworth wasushered into the office of this gentleman. 

'Mr. Melville, ' he said, 'I have been recommended to come to you forinformation regarding the china trade. The information I want, you will, perhaps, not be able to give me, but I believe you can tell me to whom Ishould apply for it. ' Saying this, he took out of his pocket the specimenof mineral which he had brought with him. 'What I want to know is, howmuch of this material you use each year in the manufacture of china; whatprice you pay for it; and I should like to get at an estimate, ifpossible, of the quantity used in England every year. '

Melville picked up the specimen and turned it round and round, looking atit attentively. 

'Well, ' he said at last, 'I could tell you anything you wished about thewholesale china trade, but about the manufacture of it I am not so wellinformed. Where did you get this?'

'That, ' said Wentworth, 'is from a mine in which I am interested. '

'Ah, where is the mine situated, may I ask?'

'It is in America, ' said Wentworth vaguely. 

'I see. Have you considered the question of carriage in proposing to putit on the English market? That, as you know, is an important question. The cost of taking a heavy article a long distance is a great factor inthe question of its commercial value. '

'I recognise that, ' said Wentworth; 'and it is to enable me to form someestimate of the value of this material that I ask for particulars of itsprice here. '

'I understand, but I am not able to answer your questions. If you havetime to wait and see Mr. Brand, our manager of the works, who is also oneof the owners, he could easily tell you everything about thismineral--whether used at all or not. He comes up to London once everyfortnight, and to-day is his day. I am expecting him here at any time. You might wait, if you liked, and see him. '

'I do not think that will be necessary. I will write, if you will allowme, just what I want to know, and in two or three minutes he could jotdown the information I require. Then I will call again to-morrow, if youdon't mind. '

'Not in the least. I will submit the matter to him. You can leave me thispiece of mineral, I suppose?'

'Certainly, ' said Wentworth, writing on a sheet of paper the questions:'First, What quantity of this mineral is used in your works in a year?second, What price per ton do you pay for it? third, Will you give me, ifpossible, an estimate of how much of this is used in England?'

'There, ' he said, 'if you will give him this slip of paper, and show himthe specimen of mineral, I shall be very much obliged. '

'By the way, ' said Melville, 'is this mine in operation?'

'Yes, it is. '

'Is there anyone else beside yourself interested in it in this country?'

'Yes, ' said Wentworth, with some hesitation; 'John Kenyon, a miningexpert, is interested in it, and Mr. Longworth--young Mr. Longworth ofthe City. '

'Any relation to John Longworth?'

'His nephew. '

'Ah, well, anything that Longworth has an interest in is reasonably sureof being successful. '

'I am perhaps going too far in saying he has an interest in the mine, butin coming from America he seemed desirous of going in with us. Mypartner. John Kenyon, of whom I spoke just now, is with him at thepresent moment, I believe. '

'Very well. I will submit this specimen to Mr. Brand as you desire, andwill let you know to-morrow what he says. '

With that Wentworth took his leave, and in going out through the hall hemet the manager of the china works, although he didn't know at the timewho he was. He was a very shrewd-faced individual, who walked with abrisk business step which showed he believed that time was money. 

'Well, Melville, ' he said when he entered, 'I am a little late to-day, am I not?'

'You are a little behind the usual time, but not much. '

'By the way----' began the manager, and then his eye wandered to thespecimen on the desk before Melville. 'Hello!' he cried, 'where did youget this?'

'That was left here a moment ago by a gentleman whom I wanted to waituntil you came, but he seemed to be in a hurry. He is going to call againto-morrow. '

'What is his name?'

'Wentworth. Here's his card. '

'Ah, of a firm of accountants, eh? How did he come to have this?'

'He wanted to get some information about it, and I told him I would showit to you. Here is the note he left. '

The manager turned the crystal over and over in his hand, put on hiseyeglasses and peered into it, then picked up the piece of paper andlooked at what Kenyon had written. 

'Did he say where he had got this?'

'Yes; he says there is a mine of it in America. '

'In America, eh? Did he say how much of this stuff there was?

'No; he didn't tell me that. The mine is working, however. '

'It is very curious! I never heard of it. '

'I gathered from him, ' said Mr. Melville, 'that he wishes to do somethingwith the mine over here. He did not say much, but he told me hispartner--I forget his name--was talking at the present moment with youngLongworth about it. '

'Longworth--who's he?'

'He's a man who goes in for mines or other investments; that is, hisuncle does--a very shrewd old fellow, too. He is always on the right sideof the market, no matter how it turns. '

'Then, he would be a man certain to know the value of the property if hehad it, wouldn't he?'

'I don't know anybody who knows the value of what he has better thanLongworth. '

'Ah, that's a pity, ' mused the manager. 

'Why? Is it a mineral of any worth?'

'Worth! A quarry of this would be better for us than a gold-mine!'

'Well, it struck me, in talking with Mr. Wentworth, that he had noparticular idea of its utility. He seemed to know nothing about it, andthat's why he came here for information. '

Again the manager looked at the paper before him. 

'I'm not so sure about that, ' he said. 'He wants to know the quantityused in a year, how much of it is consumed in England, and the price wepay for it per ton. I should judge, from that, he has an inkling of itsvalue, and wants merely to corroborate it. Yes, I feel certain that ishis move. I fear nothing very much can be done with Mr. Wentworth. '

'What were you thinking of doing?'

'My dear Melville, if we could get hold of such a mine, supposing it hasan unlimited quantity of this mineral in it, we could control the chinamarkets of the world. '

'You don't mean it!'

'It's a fact, because of the purity of the mineral. The stuff that we useis heavily impregnated with iron; we have to get the iron out of it, andthat costs money. Not that the stuff itself is uncommon at all, it is oneof the most common substances in Nature; but anything so pure as this Ihave never seen. I wonder if it is a fair specimen of what they can getout of the mine? If it is, I would rather own that property than anygold-mine I know of. '

'Well, I will see Mr. Wentworth, if you like. He is going to call hereabout this time to-morrow, and I will find out if some arrangement cannotbe made with him. '

'No, I wouldn't do that, ' replied the manager, who preferred never to dothings in a direct way. 'I think your best plan is to see Longworth. Thechances are that a City man like him does not know the value of theproperty; and, if you don't mind, I will write a letter to Mr. Wentworthand give him my opinion on this mineral. '

'What shall I say to Longworth?'

'Say anything you like; you understand that kind of business better thanI. Here are the facts of the case. If we can get a controlling interestin this mine, always supposing that it turns out mineral up to sample--Isuspect that this is a picked specimen; of course we should have to senda man to America and see--if we could get hold of this property, it wouldbe the greatest feat in business we have ever done, provided, of course, we get it at a cheap enough price. '

'What do you call a cheap enough price?'

'You find out what Longworth will sell the mine for. '

'But supposing Wentworth owns the mine, or as much of it asLongworth does?'

'I think, somehow, that if you know Longworth you can perhaps make betterterms with him. Meanwhile I will send a letter to Wentworth. You have hisaddress there?'

'Yes. '

'Very well. '

Taking his pen, he dashed off the following letter:

'DEAR SIR, 'I regret to say that the mineral you left at our office yesterday is ofno value to us. We do not use mineral of this nature, and, so far as Iknow, it is not used anywhere in England. 

'Yours truly, 'ADAM BRAND. '

CHAPTER XIX. 

The chances are that, no matter under what circumstances young Longworthand Kenyon had first met, the former would have disliked the latter. Although strong friendships are formed between men who are dissimilar, it must not be forgotten that equally strong hatreds have arisen betweenpeople merely because they were of opposite natures. No two young mencould have been more unlike each other; and as Longworth recalled thedifferent meetings he had had with Kenyon, he admitted to himself that hehad an extreme antipathy to the engineer. The evident friendship whichhis cousin felt for Kenyon added a bitterness to this dislike which wasrapidly turning it into hate. However, he calmed down sufficiently, ongoing home in the carriage, to become convinced that it was better to saynothing about her meeting with Kenyon unless she introduced the subject. After all, the carriage was hers, not his, and he recognised that fact. He wondered how much Kenyon had told her of the interview at his uncle'soffice. He flattered himself, however, that he knew enough of women to besure that she would very speedily refer to the subject, and then he hopedto learn just how much had been said. To his surprise, his cousin saidnothing at all about the matter, neither that evening nor the nextmorning, and, consequently, he went to his office in a somewhatbewildered state of mind. 

On arriving at his room in the City, he found Melville waiting for him. 

Melville shook hands with young Longworth, and, taking a mineral specimenfrom his pocket, placed it on the young man's desk, saying;

'I suppose you know where that comes from?'

Longworth looked at it with an air of indecision which made Melvillesuspect he knew very little about it. 

'I haven't the slightest idea, really. '

'No? I was told you were interested in the mine from which this wastaken. Mr. Wentworth called on me yesterday, and gave your name as one ofthose who were concerned with the mine. '

'Ah, yes, I see; yes, yes, I have--some interest in the mine. '

'Well, it is about that I came to talk with you. Where is the minesituated?'

'It is near the Ottawa River, I believe, some distance above Montreal. Iam not certain about its exact position, but it is somewhere in thatneighbourhood. '

'I thought by the way Wentworth talked it was in the United States. Hementioned another person as being his partner in the affair; I forgethis name. '

'John Kenyon, probably. '

'Kenyon! Yes, I think that was the name. Yes, I am sure it was. Now, mayI ask what is your connection with that mine? Are you a partner ofWentworth's and Kenyon's? Are you the chief owner of the mine, or is themine owned by them?'

'In the first place, Mr. Melville, I should like to know why you ask methese questions?'

Melville laughed. 

'Well, I will tell you. We should like to know what chance there is ofour getting a controlling interest in the mine. That is very frankly put, isn't it?'

'Yes, it is. But whom do you mean by "we"? Who else besides yourself?'

'By "we" I mean the china company to which I belong. This mineral isuseful in making china. That I suppose you know. '

'Yes, I was aware of that, ' answered Longworth, although he heard it nowfor the first time. 

'Very well, then; I should like to know who is the owner of the mine. '

'The owner of the mine at present is some foreigner whose name andaddress I do not know. The two young men you speak of have an option onthat mine for a certain length of time--how long I don't know. They havebeen urging me to go in with them to form a company for the floating ofthat mine for two hundred thousand pounds on the London market. '

'Two hundred thousand pounds!' said Melville. 'That seems to me rather alarge amount. '

'Do you think so? Well, the objection I had to it was that it was toosmall. '

'Those two men must have an exaggerated idea of the value of this mineralif they think it will pay dividends on two hundred thousand pounds. '

'This mineral is not all there is in the mine. In fact, it is alreadypaying a dividend on fifty thousand pounds or thereabouts, because of themica in it. It is being mined for mica alone. To tell the truth, I didnot know much about the other mineral. '

'And do you think the mine is worth two hundred thousand pounds?'

'Frankly, I do not. '

'Then why are you connected with it?'

'I am not connected with it--at least, not definitely connected with it. I have the matter under consideration. Of course, if there is anythingapproaching a swindle in it, I shall have nothing to do with it. It willdepend largely on the figures that the two men show me whether I haveanything to do with it or not. '

'I see; I understand your position. ' Then, lowering his voice, Melvilleleaned over towards Longworth, and said: 'You are a man of business. Now, I want to ask you what would be the chance of our getting the mine atsomething like the original option priced which is, of course, very muchless than two hundred thousand pounds? We do not want to have too many init. In fact, if you could get it for us at a reasonable rate, and did notcare to be troubled with the property yourself, we would take the wholeourselves. '

Young Longworth pondered a moment, and then said to Melville:

'Do you mean to freeze out the other two fellows, as they say inAmerica?'

'I do not know about freezing out; but, of course, with the other twothere is so much less profit to be divided. We should like to deal withjust as few as if possible. '

'Exactly. I see what you mean. I think it can be done. Are you in anygreat hurry to secure the mine?'

'Not particularly. Why?'

'Well, if things are worked rightly, I don't know but what we could getit for the original option. That would mean, of course, to wait untilthis first option had run out. '

'Wouldn't there be a little danger in that? They may form their companyin the meantime, and then we should lose everything. Our interest in thematter is as much to prevent anyone else getting hold of the mine as toget it ourselves. '

'I see. I will think it over. I believe it can be done without greatrisk; but, of course, we shall have to be reasonably quiet about thematter. '

'I see the necessity of that. '

'Very good. I will see you again after I have thought over the affair, and we can come to some arrangement. '

'I may say that our manager has written a note to Wentworth, saying thatthis mineral is of no particular use to us. '

'Exactly, ' said young Longworth, with a look of intelligence. 

'So, of course, in speaking with Wentworth about the mine, it is just aswell not to mention us in any way. '

'I shall not. '

'Very well. I will leave the matter in your hands for the present. '

'Yes, do so. I will think over it this afternoon, and probably seeWentworth and Kenyon to-morrow. There is no immediate hurry, for I happento know they have not done anything yet. '

With that Mr. Melville took his leave, and young Longworth paced up anddown the room, evolving a plan that would at once bring him money andgive him the satisfaction of making it lively for John Kenyon. 

When he reached home, Longworth waited for his cousin to say somethingabout Kenyon; but he soon saw that she did not intend to speak of him atall. So he said to her:

'Edith, do you remember Kenyon and Wentworth--who were on board oursteamer?'

'I remember them very well. '

'Did you know they had a mining property for sale?'

'Yes. '

'I have been thinking about it--in fact, Kenyon called at my office a dayor two ago, and at that time, not having given the subject much thought, I could not give him any encouragement; but I have been pondering over itsince, and have almost decided to help them. What do you think about it?'

'Oh, I think it would be an excellent plan. I am sure the property is agood one, or Mr. Kenyon would have nothing to do with it. I shall write anote to them, if you think it advisable, inviting them here to talk withyou about it. '

'That will not be necessary at all. I do not want people to come here totalk business. My office is the proper place. '

'Still, we met them in a friendly way on board the steamer, and I thinkit would be nice if they came here some evening and talked over thematter with you. '

'I don't believe in introducing business into a man's home. This would bea purely business conversation, and it may as well take place at myoffice, or at Wentworth's, if he has one, as I suppose he has. '

'Oh, certainly; his address is----'

'Oh, you know it, do you?'

Edith blushed as she realized what she had said; then she remarked:

'Is there any harm in my knowing the business address of Mr. Wentworth?'

'Oh, not at all--not at all. I merely wondered how you happened to knowhis address, when I didn't. '

'Well, it doesn't matter how I know it. I am glad you are going to joinhim, and I am sure you will be successful. Will you see them to-morrow?'

'I think so. I shall call on Wentworth and have a talk with him about it. Of course we may not be able to come to a workable arrangement. If not, it really does not matter very much. But if I can make satisfactory termswith them, I will help them to form their company. '

When Edith went to her own room she wrote a note. It was addressed toGeorge Wentworth in the City, but above that address was the name JohnKenyon. She said:

'DEAR MR. KENYON, 'I was certain at the time you spoke that my cousin was not so much atfault in forgetting his conversation as you thought. We had a talk tonight about the mine, and when he calls upon you tomorrow, as he intendsto do, I want you to know that I said nothing whatever to him of what youtold me. He mentioned the subject first. I wanted you to know thisbecause you might feel embarrassed when you met him by thinking I hadsent him to you. That is not at all the case. He goes to you of his ownaccord, and I am sure you will find his assistance in forming a companyvery valuable. I am glad to think you will be partners. 

'Yours very truly, 'EDITH LONGWORTH. '

She gave this letter to her maid to post, and young Longworth met themaid in the hall with the letter in her hand. He somehow suspected, afterthe foregoing conversation, to whom the letter was addressed. 

'Where are you going with that?'

'To the post, sir. '

'I am going out; to save you the trouble I will take it. '

After passing the corner, he looked at the address on the envelope; thenhe swore to himself a little. If he had been a villain in a play he wouldhave opened the letter; but he did not. He merely dropped it into thefirst pillar-box he came to, and in due time it reached John Kenyon. 

CHAPTER XX. 

Although Jennie Brewster arrived in London angry with the world ingeneral, and with several of its inhabitants in particular, she soonbegan to revel in the delights of the great city. It was so old that itwas new to her, and she visited Westminster Abbey and other of itsancient landmarks in rapid succession. The cheapness of the hansomsdelighted her, and she spent most of her time dashing about in cabs. Sheput up at one of the big hotels, and ordered many new dresses at a placein Regent Street. She bought most of the newspapers, morning and evening, and declared she could not find an interesting article in any of them. From her point of view they were stupid and unenterprising, and sheresolved to run down the editor of one of the big dailies when she gottime, interview him, and discover how he reconciled it with hisconscience to publish so dull a sheet every day. 

She wrote to her editor in New York that London, though a slow town, wasfull of good material, and that nobody had touched it in the writing linesince Dickens' time; therefore she proposed to write a series ofarticles on the Metropolis that would wake them up a bit. The editorcabled to her to go ahead, and she went. 

Jennie engaged a chaperon, and took great satisfaction in this unwontedluxury. It had been intimated to her that Lady Willow was a sort ofsociety St. Peter, who held keys that would open the gates of the socialheaven, if she were sufficiently recompensed. Of all the ancientlandmarks of England, none attracted Jennie so much as the aristocracy, and although she had written to New York for letters of introduction thatwould be useful in London, she was too impatient to await their arrival. Thus she came to secure the services of Lady Willow, the widow of SirDebenham Willow, who had died abroad, insolvent, some years before, mourned by the creditors he left behind him. 

Jennie was suspicious about the title, and demanded convincing proofs ofits genuineness before she engaged Lady Willow. She was amazed that anyreal lady would, as it were, sell her social influence at so much a week;but, as Lady Willow was equally astonished that an American girl earnedher livelihood by writing for the papers, the surprise of the one foundits counterpart in the wonder of the other. 

Lady Willow thought all American girls were born daughters ofmillionaires, in accordance with some unexplained Western by-law ofnature, and imagined that their sole object in desiring to enter Londonsociety was to purchase for themselves a more or less expensive scion ofthe aristocracy; she was therefore inclined to resent meeting a shrewdyoung woman apparently determined on getting the value for her money. 

'It is not my custom to chaffer about terms, ' said Lady Willow withmuch dignity. 

'It is mine, ' replied Jennie complacently; 'I always like to know what Iam buying, and the price I am to pay for it. '

'You are dealing with me, ' said the lady, rising indignantly, 'as if youwere engaging a cook. I am sure we would not suit each other at all. '

'Please sit down, Lady Willow, and don't be offended. Let us talk it overin an amicable manner, even if we come to no arrangement. I think a cookan exceedingly important person, and I assure you I would treat one inthe most deferential manner; while with you, on the other hand, I talk inan open and frank way, as between friend and friend. I take it that youand I are somewhat similarly situated. We are neither of us rich, and sowe have each of us to earn the money we need in our own way. It would bedishonest if I pretended to you that I was wealthy, and then couldn't paywhat you expected after you had done all you could for me--now, wouldn'tit? Very well, if you have anyone else to chaperon who can afford to paymore than I can, you shouldn't bother about me at all, but secure aricher client. '

Lady Willow remembered that this was not the season when rich clientsabounded; so she smothered her resentment, and sat down again. 

'That's right, ' said Jennie; 'we'll have a nice quiet talk, whatevercomes of it. Now, if you like, I could write a lovely article about youin the _Sunday Argus_, and then all rich girls who come over here wouldgo direct to you. '

'Oh dear! oh dear!' cried Lady Willow, evidently inexpressibly shockedat the idea, 'you would surely never do so cruel a thing as that? If myfriends knew I chaperoned young ladies and took money for it, I wouldnever be allowed to enter their doors again. '

'Ah, I didn't think of that. Of course it wouldn't do. What a curiousthing it is that those who want to be written up in the papers generallynever see their names in print; while those who don't want to haveanything said about them are the people the reporters are always after. '

'Do you write for the papers, then?'

'For one of them. '

'How dreadful!' said Lady Willow, rising again, with an air of finalityabout her movement. It was evident that any dealings with this Americangirl were out of the question. 

'Do sit down again, Lady Willow. We will take it that I am hopelesslyineligible, and so say no more about it; but I do want to have a talkwith you. '

'But you will write something----'

'I shall not write a word about you or about anything you tell me. Yousee, your profession is as strange to me as mine is to you. '

'My profession? I have none. '

'Well, whatever you call it. I mean the way in which you make yourmoney. '

Lady Willow sighed, and the tears came into her eyes. 

'You little know, my child, to what straits one may come who is leftunprovided for, and who has to do the best to keep up appearances. '

Jennie sprang up instantly and took the unresisting hand of the elderwoman, smoothing it with her own caressingly. 

'Why, of course I know, ' she cried, with a little quaver in her voice;'and there is nothing more terrible on earth than lack of money. If therewas a single really civilized country in existence, it would makeprovision for its women. Every woman should be assured enough to live on, merely because she is a woman. If England had put aside as much for itswomen as it has spent in the last hundred years on foolish wars, or ifAmerica had made a fund of what its politicians have been allowed tosteal, the women of both barbarous countries might have been providedwith incomes that would at least keep them from the fear of want. '

Lady Willow seemed more alarmed than comforted by the vehemence of MissBrewster. She said hesitatingly:

'I'm afraid you have some very strange ideas, my dear. '

'Perhaps; but I have one idea that isn't strange: it is that you aregoing to take charge of a lonesome, friendless girl for a few weeks atleast--until the rich pork-packer's daughter from Chicago comes along, and she won't be here for a month or two yet. We won't say a word aboutterms; I'll pay you all that's left over from my hansom fares. '

'I shall be very happy to do what I can for you, my dear. '

Lady Willow had softened towards her fair client, and had now adopted asomewhat motherly tone with her, which Jennie evidently liked. 

'I will try and be very little trouble to you, although I shall probablyask you ever so many questions. All I really want is merely to see theZoo, hear the animals roar, and watch them being fed. I have no ambitionto steal any of them. '

'Oh, that will be easily done, ' said Lady Willow in surprise. 'We can gettickets from one of the Fellows of the Zoological Society which willadmit us on Sunday, when there are but few people there. '

Jennie laughed merrily. 

'I mean the social Zoo, Lady Willow; I have visited the other already. Please do not look so shocked at me, and don't be afraid; I reallytalk very nicely when I am in society, and I am sure you will not bein the least ashamed of me. You see, I haven't had a soul to speak withsince I came to London, so I think I ought to be allowed a littlelatitude at first. '

Lady Willow so far relaxed her dignity as to smile, although a littledubiously; and Jennie joyfully proclaimed that their compact was sealedand that she was sure they would be great friends. 

'Now you must tell me what I am to do, ' she continued. 'I suppose dressesare the most important preliminaries when one is meditating a siege onsociety. Well, I've ordered ever so many, so that's all right. What's thenext thing?'

'Yes, dress is important; but I think the first thing to do is to choosepleasant rooms somewhere. You can't stay at this hotel, you know;besides, it must be very expensive. '

'Yes, it is rather; but it is so handy and central. '

'It is not central for society. '

'Oh, isn't it? I was thinking of Westminster Abbey and Trafalgar Square, and that sort of thing. Besides, there's _always_ a nice hansom right atthe door whenever one wants to go out. '

'Oh, but you mustn't ride in hansoms, you know!'

'Why? I thought the aristocracy--the very highest--rode in hansoms. '

'Some of them have private hansoms; but that's a very different thing. '

'And I heard somewhere that most of the hansoms in London are owned bythe aristocracy. I am sure I rode in one belonging to the Marquis ofSomething--I forget his name. I don't suppose the Marquis himself droveit. Perhaps it was driven by his hired man; but the driver was such anice young fellow, and he gave me a lot of information. He told me thatthe Marquis owned the hansom; for I asked him whose it was. I thoughtperhaps it belonged to the driver. I'll give up the hotel willingly, butI don't know about hansoms. I'm afraid to promise; for I feel sure I'llhail a hansom automatically the moment I go out alone. So we willpostpone the hansom question until later. Now, where would you recommendme to stay while in London?'

'You could stop with me if you liked. I have not a large house; but thereis room for one or two friends, and it is in a very good locality. '

'Oh, that will be delightful. I suppose the correct address on one'snotepaper is everything, almost as good as a coat-of-arms--if they usecoats-of-arms as letter-heads; and there is a difference between Druryand Park when they precede the word "Lane. "'

The two ladies speedily came to an understanding that was satisfactory toeach of them, and Lady Willow found, to the no small comforting of herdignity, that, although she came to the hotel in the attitude of one who, if it may be so expressed, sought a favour, the impetuous eagerness ofthe younger woman had so changed the situation that the elder lady nowleft with the gratifying self complacency of a generous person who hasconferred a boon. Nor was her condescension without its reward, bothmaterial and intellectual, for not only did Jennie pay her way with somelavishness, but her immediate social success was flattering to LadyWillow as the introducer of a Transatlantic cousin so bright andvivacious. 

So great an impression did Jennie make upon the more susceptible portionof the young men she met under Lady Willow's chaperonage, that even therumour which got abroad, that she had no money, did not damp the devotionof all of them. Lord Frederick Bingham was quite as assiduous in hisattentions as if she were the greatest heiress that ever crossed theocean to exchange dubiously won gold for a title founded by some thief inthe Middle Ages, thus bringing ancient and modern villainy intojuxtaposition. 

Lady Willow saw Lord Frederick's preference with pleasurable surprise. Although she did not altogether approve of the damsel in her care, shehad become very fond of her; but she failed to see why Jennie was so muchsought after, when other girls, almost as pretty and much more eligible, were neglected. She hinted delicately to the young woman one day thatperhaps her visit to England would not be, after all, so futile. 

'I don't think I understand you, ' said Jennie. 

'Well, my dear, with a little tact on your part, I'm not at all sure butLord Frederick Bingham might propose. '

Jennie, who was putting on her gloves, paused and looked at Lady Willow, with a merry twinkle in her eyes, and a demure smile hovering about thecorners of her mouth. 

'Do you imagine, then, that I have come over here to ensnare some poorunprotected nobleman--with a display of tact? Oh dear me! As if tact hadanything to do with it! Never, never, never, Lady Willow! I wouldn'tmarry an Englishman if he were the last man left on earth. '

'Many Englishmen are very nice, my dear, ' protested Lady Willow gently, with a deep sigh, for she thought of her own husband, who, having beenall his life an irreclaimable reprobate, had commanded her utmostaffection while he lived, and was the object of her tenderest regret nowthat he had taken his departure from a world that had never appreciatedhis talents; although its influence was, in the estimation of the widow, entirely to blame for those shortcomings which Sir Debenham had beenunable to conceal. 

'And yet, ' continued Jennie inconsequently, as she buttoned her glove, 'I do adore a title; I wonder why that is? I suppose no woman is ever atheart a republican, and if the United States is to be wrecked, it is thewomen who will do the wrecking, and start a monarchy. I have no doubtthe men would let us proclaim an empire now if they imagined it wouldplease us. '

'I thought you were all sovereigns over there already, ' said Lady Willow. 

'Oh, we are, but that's just the trouble. There is too much competitionin the queen business; there are too many of us, and so we exchange oursovereignty for the lesser titles of duchesses and countesses and allthat. 

 '"It is no trivial thing, I ween, To be a regular Royal Queen. No half and half affair, I mean, But a right down regular, regular regular regular Royal Queen. "

I don't know that the words are right, but the sentiment is there. Ohdear me! I'm afraid I'm becoming quite English, you know. '

'I don't see many signs of it, ' said Lady Willow, smiling in spite ofherself as her voluble companion sang and danced about the room. 

'Come, Lady Willow, ' cried Jennie, 'get on your things; I am going to aCity bank to cash a cheque, and I warn you that I will take a hansom. Lord Freddie agrees with me that a hansom is the jolliest kind ofvehicle: please don't frown at me, Lady Willow--"jolliest" is LordFreddie's word, not mine. '

'What I didn't like, ' said Lady Willow, with as near an approach toseverity as the kindly woman could assume, 'was your calling himLord Freddie. '

'Oh, that's his phrase, too! He says everybody calls him Lord Freddie. But come along, and I'll call him Lord--Frederick--Bingham, ' with a voiceof awe and appropriate pauses between the words. 'He always seems sotrivial compared with his name; he reminds me of a salesman at a remnantcounter, and I don't wonder everybody calls him Lord Freddie. I'm afraidI'm a disappointed woman, Lady Willow. I suppose the men have retrogradedsince armour went out of fashion; they had to be big and strong then tocarry so much hardware. Of course it makes a difference to a man whetherhis tailor cuts him a suit out of broadcloth or out of sheet iron. Yes, I begin to suspect that I've come to England several centuries too late. '

Lady Willow was too much shocked at these frivolous remarks to make anyreply, so, attempting none, she went to her room to prepare for her tripto the City. 

Leaving Lady Willow in the hansom, Jennie entered the bank and got thewhite notes, generally alluded to in fiction as 'crisp, ' stuffing themwith greater carelessness than their value warranted into her purse. Shetook from this receptacle of her wealth a bit of paper on which waswritten an address, and this she looked at for some moments beforeleaving the bank. On reaching the hansom, she handed up the slip of paperto the driver. 

'Do you know where that is?' she asked. 

'Yes, miss; it is just round the corner. '

'Well, drive to the opposite side of the street, and stop where I can seethe door of No. 23. '

'Very good, miss. '

Arriving nearly opposite No. 23, the driver pulled up. Jennie lookedacross at the doorway where many hurrying men were entering and leaving. It was a large building evidently filled with offices; the girl drew adeep breath, but made no motion to leave the hansom. 

'Have you business here, too?' asked Lady Willow, to whom the City was anunknown land, the rush and noise of which were unpleasantly bewildering. 

'No, ' said Jennie, with a doleful note in her voice, 'this is notbusiness; it is pleasure. I want to sit here for a few minutes andthink. '

'But, my dear child, ' expostulated Lady Willow, 'you can't think in thisbabel; besides, the police will not allow the hansom to stand here unlessone of us is shopping, or has business in an office. '

'Then, dear Lady Willow, do go shopping for ten minutes; I saw somelovely shops just down the street. Here are five pounds, and if you seeanything that I ought to have, buy it for me. One must think now andthen, you know. Our thoughts are like the letters we receive; we need tosort them out periodically, and discard those that we don't wish to keep. I want to rummage over my thoughts and see whether some of them are to beabandoned or not. '

When Lady Willow left her, Jennie sat with her chin in her hands and herelbows on her knees gazing across at No. 23. The faces of none who wentin or came out were familiar to her. Frequently glances were cast at herby passers-by, but she paid no heed to the crowd, nor to the fleetingadmiration her pretty face aroused in many a flinty stockbroking breast, if, indeed, she was conscious of the attention she received. She awokefrom her reverie when Lady Willow stepped into the hansom. 

'What, back already?' she cried. 

'I have been away for a quarter of an hour, ' said the elder womanreproachfully. 'Besides, the money is all spent, and here are theparcels. '

'Money doesn't go far in the City, does it?' said Jennie. 

'Why, what's the matter with you, my dear?' asked the elder woman; 'yourvoice sounds as if you had been crying. '

'Nonsense! What an idea! This street reminds me so of Broadway that Ihave become quite homesick, that's all. I think I'll go back to NewYork. '

'Have you met somebody from over there?'

'No, no. I've seen no one I knew. '

'Did you expect to?'

'Perhaps. '

'I didn't know you had any friends in the City. '

'I haven't. He's an enemy. '

'Really? An enemy who was once a friend?'

'Yes. Why do you ask so many questions?'

Lady Willow took the girl's hand, and said soothingly:

'I am sorry there was a misunderstanding. '

'So am I, ' agreed Jennie. 

CHAPTER XXI. 

When John Kenyon entered the office of his friend next morning, Wentworthsaid to him:

'Well, what luck with the Longworths?'

'No luck at all, ' was the answer; 'the young man seemed to have forgottenall about our conversation on board the steamer, and the old gentlemantakes no interest in the matter. '

Wentworth hemmed and tapped on the desk with the end of his lead pencil. 

'I never counted much on that young fellow, ' he said at last. 'Whatappeared to be his reason?'

'I don't know exactly. He didn't give any reason. He merely said that hewould have nothing to do with it, after having got me to tell him whatour option on the mine was. '

'Why did you tell him that?'

'Well, it seemed, after I had talked to him a little, that there was somehope of his going in with us. I told him point-blank that I didn't careto say at what figure we had the option unless he was going in with us. He said of course he couldn't consider the matter at all unless he knewto what he was committed; and so I told him. '

'And what excuse did he make for not joining us?'

'Oh, he merely said he thought he would have nothing to do with it. '

'Now, what do you imagine his object was in pumping you if he had nointention of taking an interest in the mine?'

'I'm sure I don't know. I do not understand that sort of man at all. Infact, I feel rather relieved he is going to have nothing to do with it. Idistrust him. '

'That's all very well, John, you are prejudiced against him; but you knowthe name of Longworth would have a very great effect upon the minds ofother City men. If we can get the Longworths into this, even for a smallamount, I am certain that we shall have very little trouble in floatingthe company. '

'Well, all I can say is, my mission to the Longworths was a failure. Haveyou looked over the papers?'

'Oh yes, and that reminds me. The point on which the whole scheme turnsis the availability of the mineral for the making of china, isn't it?'

'That is so. '

'Well, look at this letter; it came this morning. '

He tossed the letter over to Kenyon, who read it, and then asked:

'Who's Adam Brand? He doesn't know what he is talking about. '

'Ah, but the trouble is that he does. No man in England better, I shouldimagine. He is the manager and part owner of the big Scranton chinaworks. I went to see Melville of that company yesterday. He could tellme nothing about the mineral, but kept the specimen I gave him, and toldme he would show it to the manager when he came in. Brand is the managerof the works, and if anybody knows the value of the mineral, he ought tobe the man. '

'Nevertheless, ' said Kenyon, 'he is mistaken. '

'That is just the point of the whole matter--is he? The mineral is eithervalueless, as he says, or he is telling a deliberate lie for someparticular purpose; and I can't see, for the life of me, why a strangershould not only tell a falsehood, but write it on paper. Now, John, whatdo you know about china manufacture?'

'I know very little indeed about it. '

'Very well, then, how can you put your knowledge against this man's, whois a practical manufacturer?'

Kenyon looked at Wentworth, who was evidently not feeling in the bestof humours. 

'Do you mean to say, George, that I do not know what I am talking aboutwhen I tell you that this mineral is valuable for a certain purpose?'

'Well, you have just admitted that you know nothing about the chinatrade. '

'Not "nothing, " George--I know something about it; but what I dounderstand is the value of minerals. The reason I know anything at allabout china manufacture is simply because I learned that this mineral isone of the most important components of china. '

'Then why did that man write such a letter?'

'I'm sure I don't know. As you saw the man, you can judge better than Iwhether he would tell a deliberate falsehood, or whether he was merelyignorant. '

'I didn't see Brand at all; I saw Melville. Melville was to submit thismineral to Brand, and let me know what he thought about it. Of course, everything depends upon the value of it in the china trade. '

'Of course. '

'Very well then, I took the only way that was open to me to find out whatpractical men say about it. If they say they will have nothing to do withit, then we might as well give up our mining scheme and send back ouroption to Mr. Von Brent. '

Kenyon read the letter again, and pondered deeply over it. 

'You see, of course, ' said George once more, 'everything hinges on that, don't you?'

'I certainly see that. '

'Then, what have you to say?'

'I have to say this--that I shall have to take a trip among the chinaworks of Great Britain. I think it would be a good plan if you were towrite to the different manufacturers in the United States and find outhow much they use of it. There is no necessity for sending the mineral. They have to use that, and nothing else will do. Find out from them, ifyou can, how much of it they need, what price they will pay for purematerial, and what they pay for the impure material they use now. '

'How do you know, John, that there are not a dozen mines with thatmaterial in them?'

'How do I know? Well, if you want to impugn my knowledge of mineralogy, Iwish you would do so straight out. I either know my business or I do not. If you think I do not, then leave this matter entirely alone. I tell youthat what I say about this mineral is true. What I say about its scarcityis true. There are no other mines with mineral so pure as this. '

'I am perfectly satisfied when you say that, but you must remember thosewho are going to put their money in this company will not be satisfied. They must have the facts and figures down before them, and they are notgoing to take either your word or mine as to the value of the mineral. Your proposal about seeing the different manufactories is good. I wouldact upon it at once, if I were you. We must have the opinions ofpractical men set forth clearly before we can make a move in the matter. Now, how much of this mineral have you got?'

'Only the few lumps I took with me in my portmanteau. The barrel full ofit which we got at Burntpine has not arrived yet. I suppose it came byslow steamer and is probably on the ocean still. '

'Very good. Take what specimens you have, go to the North, and see thosemanufacturers. Get, in some way or another, whether from the principalsor from the subordinates, the price they pay for it, and the cost ofremoving the adulteration from the stuff they employ now; because that isreally the material we come into competition with. It is not with theirfirst raw material, but with their material as cleared from thedeleterious foreign substances, that we have to deal. Find out exactlywhat it costs to do this purifying, and then, when you get your facts andfigures, I will arrange them for you in the best order. Meanwhile, as yousuggest, I will learn what manufactories there are in the States. Nothingcan be done except that until you come back, and, if I were you, I shouldleave at once. '

'I am quite ready. I don't want to lose any further time. '

So John Kenyon departed, and was soon on his way to the North, with alist of china manufactories in his note-book. 

That afternoon Wentworth got the letters off by the American mail, and hefelt that they were doing business as rapidly as could be expected. Nextmorning there was a letter for John Kenyon addressed to the care ofWentworth, and by a later mail there came a letter to Wentworth himselffrom John, who had reached his first district and had had an interviewalready with the manager of the works. He found the mineral was all hehad expected, and they would be glad to take a certain quantity each yearat a specified rate. This letter Wentworth filed away with a smile ofsatisfaction, and then he began again to wonder why Adam Brand, representing such a well-known manufactory, should have written adeliberate falsehood. Before he had time to fathom this mystery, theoffice-boy announced that a gentleman wished to see him, and handedWentworth a card which bore the name of William Longworth. Wentwortharched his eyebrows as he looked at it. 

'Ask the gentleman to step in, please, ' he said; and the gentlemanstepped in. 

'How are you, Mr. Wentworth? I suppose you remember me, although I didnot see much of you on board the steamer. '

'I remember you perfectly, ' replied Wentworth. 'Won't you sit down?'

'Thank you. I did not know where to find Mr. Kenyon, and so, being awarethat both of you were interested in this mica-mine, I called to see youwith reference to it. '

'Indeed! I understood Mr. Kenyon to say that he had called upon you, andthat you had decided to have nothing to do with it. '

'I hardly think he was justified in saying anything quite so definite. Igot from him such particulars as he cared to give. He is not a verycommunicative man at the best, but he told me something about it, and Ihave been thinking over his proposal. I have now concluded to help you inthis matter, if you care to have my aid. Perhaps, however, things havegot to such a stage that you do not wish any assistance?'

'On the contrary, we have done very little. Mr. Kenyon is just now amongthe china manufactories in the North, finding out what demand there willbe in England for this mineral. '

'Ah, I see. Have you had reports from him yet?'

'Nothing further than a letter this morning, which is very satisfactory. '

'There is no question, then, about the mineral being useful in the chinatrade?'

'No question whatever. '

'Well, I am glad of that. Now, Mr. Kenyon spoke to me on the steamer ofgoing in share and share alike; that is, you taking a third, he taking athird, and I taking a third. We did not go very minutely intoparticulars, but I suppose we each share the expense in the same way--thepreliminary expenses, I mean?'

'Yes, ' said Wentworth; 'that would be the arrangement, I imagine. '

'Well, have you the authority to deal with me in the matter, or would itbe better for me to wait until Kenyon comes back?'

'We can settle everything here and now. '

'Very good. Would you have any objection to my seeing the papers thatrelate to the mine? I should like to get the figures of the output asnearly as possible, and any other particulars you may have that wouldenable me to estimate the value of the property. Also I should like tosee a copy of the option, or the original document by which you holdthe mine. '

'Certainly; I shall be very pleased to give you all the information inmy power. ' Wentworth turned to his desk and wrote for a few moments, then blotted the paper he had been writing, and handed it to Longworth. 'You have no objection, before this is done, to signing this document, have you?'

Longworth adjusted his one eyeglass and looked at the paper, which read:'I hereby agree to do my best to form a limited liability company for thepurpose of taking over the Ottawa Mica-mine. I agree to pay my share ofthe expenses, and to accept one-third of the profits. '

'No, I don't object to sign this, though I think it should be a littlemore definite. I think it should state that the liability I incur isto be one-third of the whole preliminary expenses, the othertwo-thirds to be paid by Kenyon and yourself; and that, in return, Iam to get one-third of the profits, the other two-thirds going toyourself and Kenyon. I think it should also state the amount of thecapital of the new company; two hundred thousand pounds was suggested, if I remember rightly. '

'Very well, ' answered Wentworth; 'I will rewrite that in accordance withyour wishes. '

This he did, and Longworth, again adjusting his eyeglass, read it. 

'Now, ' he said, 'as we are so formal about the matter, perhaps it wouldbe as well for you to give me a note which I can keep, setting forththese same particulars. '

'Undoubtedly, ' said Wentworth, 'I shall do that. Probably it would bebetter for you to write the document to suit your own views, and Iwill sign it. '

'Oh no, not at all. Write whatever is embodied there, so that you willhave one paper and I the other. '

This was done. 

'Now then, ' said Longworth, 'when does your option run out?'

Wentworth named the date. 

'Who is the owner of the mine?'

'It is owned by the Austrian Mining Company, headquarters at Vienna, andthe option is signed by a Mr. Von Brent, of Ottawa, who is manager of themine and one of the owners. '

'You are perfectly certain that he has every right to sell the mine?'

'Yes; Mr. Kenyon's lawyer saw to that while he was in Ottawa. '

'And you are sure, also, that your option is a thoroughly legalinstrument?'

'We are sure of that. '

'Has it been examined by a London solicitor?'

'It has been submitted to a Canadian lawyer. The bargain was made inCanada, and it will have to be carried out in Canada, under the lawsof Canada. '

'Still, don't you think it would be just as well to get the opinion of anEnglish lawyer on it?'

'I think that would be an unnecessary expense. However, if you wish tohave that done, we will do it. '

'Yes; I think we shall need to have the opinion of a good lawyer upon itbefore we submit it to the stockholders. '

'Very well, I will have it done. Is there anyone whom you wish to give anopinion on it?'

'Oh, it is a matter of indifference to me; your own solicitor would do aswell as anyone else. Perhaps, however, it will be better to have a legaladviser for the Mica Mining Company, Limited--we shall have to have oneas we go on--and it might be as well to submit the document to whomeverwe are going to place in that position. It will not increase the legalexpenses at all, or at least by only a very trifling amount. Have youanyone to suggest?'

'I have not thought about the matter, ' said Wentworth. 

'Suppose you let me look up a firm who will answer our purpose? My uncleis sure to know the right men, and that will be something towards myshare of forming the company. '

'Very good, ' said Wentworth; 'that will be satisfactory to me. '

'Now, there is a good deal to be done in the forming of a company, and itis going to take three men a good deal of time, besides some expense. What do you say to letting me look up offices?'

'Do you think it is necessary to have offices?'

'Oh, certainly. A great deal depends, in this sort of thing, onappearances. We shall need to get offices in a good locality. '

'To tell the truth, Mr. Longworth, Kenyon and I have not very much money, and we do not want to enter into any expense that is needless. '

'My dear sir, it is not needless. This business is one of those thingsinto which, if you go boldly, you win; while if you go gingerly, on theeconomical plan, you lose everything. Of course, if there is to be ascarcity of cash, I shall have nothing to do with the scheme, because Iknow how these half-economically worked affairs turn out. I have seen toomuch of them. We are making a strike for sixty thousand pounds each. Thatis a sum worth risking something for, and, if you will believe me, youwill not get it unless you venture something for it. '

'I suppose that is true. '

'Yes, it is very true. Of course I've had more experience in matters ofthis kind than either of you, and I know we shall have to get goodoffices, with a certain prosperous look about them. People are very muchinfluenced by appearances. Now, if you like, I will see to getting theoffices and to engaging a solicitor. Every step must be taken under legaladvice, otherwise we may get into a very bad tangle and spend a greatdeal more money in the end. '

'Very well, ' said Wentworth. 'Is there anything else you can suggest?'

'Not just at present; nothing need be done until Kenyon comes back, andthen we can have a meeting to see what is the best way to proceed. '

Longworth then looked over the papers, took a note of some thingsmentioned in the option, and finally said:

'I wish you would get these papers copied for me, I suppose you havesomeone in the office who can do it?'

'Yes. '

'Then just have duplicates made of each of them. Good-morning, Mr. Wentworth. '

Wentworth mused for a few moments over the unexpected turn affairs hadtaken. He was very glad to get the assistance of Longworth; the nameitself was a tower of strength in the City. Then, Kenyon's letter fromthe North was encouraging. Thinking of the letter brought the writer ofit to his mind, so he took a telegraph-form from his desk, and wrote amessage to the address given on the letter. 

'Everything right. Longworth has joined us, and signed papers to assistin forming company. '

'There, ' he said, as he sent the boy out with the message, 'that willcheer up old John when he gets it. '

CHAPTER XXII. 

When John Kenyon returned from the North and entered the office of hisfriend Wentworth, he found that gentleman and young Longworth talking inthe outer room. 

'There's a letter for you on my desk, ' said Wentworth, after shakinghands with him. 'I'll be there in a minute. '

Kenyon entered the room and found the letter. Then he did a veryunbusinesslike thing. He pressed the writing to his lips and placed theletter in his pocket-book. This act deserves mention because it is anunusual thing in the City. As a general rule, City men do not pressbusiness communications to their lips, and the letter John had receivedwas entirely a business communication, relating only to the mine, and toWilliam Longworth's proposed connection with it. He wondered whether heshould write an answer to it or not. 

He sat down at Wentworth's desk, and came upon an obstacle at the verybeginning. He did not know how to address the young woman. Whether to say'My dear Miss Longworth, ' or 'My dear madam, ' or whether to use theadjective 'dear' at all, was a puzzle to him; and over this he wasmeditating when Wentworth came bustling in. 

'Well, ' said the latter, as John tore into small pieces a sheet ofnotepaper and threw the bits into the waste-basket, 'how have you got on?Your letters were very short indeed, but rather to the point. You seem tohave succeeded. '

'Yes, I have succeeded very well. I have got all the figures and pricesand everything else that it is necessary to have. I succeeded witheverybody except Brand, who wrote that letter to you. I cannot make himout at all. He would give me no information, and he managed to preventeveryone else in his works from giving me any. He pooh-poohed thescheme--in fact, wouldn't listen to it. He said it was not usual for mento give away information regarding their business, and in that, ofcourse, he was perfectly justified; but when I tried to argue with him asto whether this mineral was used in his manufactory or not, he would notlisten. I asked him what he used in place of it, but he would not tell. All in all, he is a most extraordinary man, and I confess I do notunderstand him. '

'Oh, it doesn't matter about him in the least. I was speaking withLongworth just now about that curious letter of his, and he agrees withme that it makes no difference. He says, what is quite true, that inevery business you find some man with whom it is difficult to deal. '

'Yes, that is so; but, still, he either uses this substance or he doesnot. I can understand a man who says, "We have no need for that, because we use another material. " But that is one of the things Branddoes not say. '

'Well, it is not worth while talking about him. By the way, you have allyour figures and notes with you, I suppose?'

'Yes, I have everything. '

'Very well. Leave them with me, and I will get them into some sort ofshape. Longworth says we shall have to have everything printed relatingto this--your statements and all. '

'That will cost a great deal of money, will it not?'

'Oh, not very much. It is necessary, it seems. We must have printedmatter to give to those who make application for information. It would beimpossible to explain personally to everybody who inquires, and to showthem these documents. '

'Yes, I suppose so. '

'Longworth was just now speaking to me about offices he has seen, and heis anxious to secure them at once. He is attending to that matter. '

'Do you think we need an office? Why could not the business be transactedhere; or perhaps a room might be had on this floor that would doperfectly well; then we should be close together, and able to communicatewhen necessary. '

'Longworth seems to think differently. He says you must impress thepublic, and so he is going in for fine offices. '

'Yes, but who is to pay for them?'

'Why, we must, of course--you and Longworth and myself. '

'Have you the money?'

'I have a certain amount. I think we shall have enough to see it through, and if not, we can easily get it, and settle up when we finish thebusiness. '

'Well, you know I have no money to spare. '

'Oh, I know that well enough. Perhaps Longworth will see us through, for, as he says, this sort of thing can be spoilt by niggardliness. Hehas known, and so have I, many a business go to pieces because offalse economy. '

'But it seems to me all this is needless expense. We only want to get afew moneyed men interested in our project, and if they are sensible men, they will look to the probability of getting a good dividend, not atfine offices. '

'Very well, John; you get the men, and I shall be satisfied. I am sure Iam as anxious to do this cheaply as you are. If you think you can go outand interest a dozen or twenty-four men in the City, and persuade themto go in for our mine, I will cry "Halt!" on our part until you do it. Will you try that?'

Kenyon pondered for a few minutes, and then said: 'I suppose that wouldbe rather a difficult thing to do. '

'Yes, that is the way it strikes me. I do not know to whom I could go. Longworth is a good man, and we have gone to him. Now it seems to me, having got his assistance, the least we can do, unless we are prepared toproduce the men ourselves forthwith, is to act as he wishes. '

'Yes, I quite appreciate that, and I also grasp the fact that too closeeconomy is not the best thing; but, on the other hand, George, how are weto perform our part with Longworth? His ideas of economy and yours may bevastly different. What is a mere trifle to him would bankrupt us!'

'I know that. Well, he is coming here this afternoon at three. Supposeyou manage to be in then, and talk with him. Meanwhile, I will go overthe papers and get them into tabulated form. '

'Very well; I shall be here at three o'clock. '

It will hardly be credited that a business man like John Kenyon spentmost of the time between that hour and three o'clock trying to compose abusiness letter in answer to the business communication he had receivedthat morning. Yet such was the astonishing fact, and it showed, perhapsmore than anything else, how utterly unfit Mr. John Kenyon was to join ina commercial undertaking in a city of hard-headed people. At last, however, the letter was posted, and Kenyon hurried away to be in time forhis three-o'clock appointment. He found Wentworth and young Mr. Longworthtogether, the latter looking more like a young man from the West Endthan a typical City business man. His monocle was in his eye, and itshone on Kenyon as he entered. It was evident something was troublingWentworth, and it was equally evident that the something, whatever itwas, was not troubling young Longworth. 

'You are late, John, ' was Wentworth's greeting. 

'A little, ' he answered. 'I was detained. '

There was silence for a few moments, and Wentworth appeared to be waitingfor Longworth to speak. At last Longworth said:

'I have succeeded in getting very nice offices indeed, and I was tellingMr. Wentworth about them. You see, it is not very easy to engage officesin a good part of the City by the week. They do not care to let them inthat way, because, while a weekly tenant is occupying them, somebodyelse, who wants them for a longer time, might have to be sent away. '

'Yes, ' said Kenyon in a non-committal manner. 

'Well, I have got just the offices we need, and have now set the men atputting gilt lettering on the windows. I have taken the offices in thename of "The Canadian Mica Mining Company, Limited, " which I shall haveon the plate-glass windows in a very short time. Now, Mr. Wentworth hereseems to think the offices rather expensive. I have told him before whatmy ideas are in the matter of expense. Perhaps, before anything more issaid on the subject, we ought to go and look at the rooms. '

'How much are they a week?' asked Kenyon. 

Young Mr. Longworth did not answer, because at that moment his monoclefell out of its place and had to be adjusted again; but Wentworth jerkedout the two words, 'Thirty pounds. '

'A _week_?' cried John. 

'Yes, ' said Longworth, after having succeeded in replacing the round bitof glass--'yes; Mr. Wentworth seems to think that is rather high, but Idefy him to get as fine offices in the City for anything less in price. It is merely ten pounds a week for each of us. However, before you canjudge of their dearness or cheapness, you must see them. If you ask me, Ithink they are a bargain. '

'Very well, ' said Kenyon. 'Have you the time, George?'

Wentworth, without answering, shoved the papers into his desk and closedit. The three young men went out together, and after a short walk came tolarge plate-glass windows, where a man on a ladder was chalking the words'The Canadian Mica Mining Company, Limited, ' in a semicircle. 

'You see, ' said Longworth, 'this is one of the very best situations inthe City. As I said before, I doubt if you could get anything like it forthe price. '

They could not deny the excellence of the position, or that theplate-glass looked very imposing and the gilt letters exceedingly fine;but the cost of this running on perhaps for two or three months seemed toappal them. 

'Come inside, ' said young Longworth suavely; 'I am sure you will bepleased with the rooms we have. You see, ' he said, entering and noddingto the carpenters who were at work there, 'this will be the frontoffice, where the public is received. Here you have room for anaccountant or two and your secretary. The back-room, which you see isalso well lighted, is just the spot for our people to meet. We will getin a large long table here, and a number of chairs, and there weare--capital directors' room. '

'Does the thirty pounds a week include the furnishing of the place?'asked Kenyon. 

'Oh, bless you, no! You surely couldn't expect that? We shall have to putin the furniture, of course. '

'And do you intend to put in desks and counter and everything of thatsort here?'

'Of course. Beside that, we will get in a large safe. There is nothinglike a ponderous safe, with the name of the company in gilt letters onit, for impressing the general public. '

'And how much is the furnishing of this place to cost?'

'Really, I don't know that. The men I have engaged will do it veryreasonably. They have done work for me before. You don't get it done anycheaper by haggling about the price beforehand--I've found that out. '

'I do not see how we are to pay our share of all this, ' said Kenyon. 

'Nothing easier, my boy; I've arranged all that. I will pay them my thirdin cash when it is finished, and, they have agreed to wait three monthsfor the remainder. By that time you will have sixty thousand pounds each, and a little bill like this will be nothing to you. '

Kenyon looked grave. 

'It's a little like counting your chickens, ' he said. 

'Ah, they'll hatch all right, ' laughed Longworth. And then his eyeglassdropped out. 

CHAPTER XXIII. 

It is never wise to despise an enemy, no matter how humble he may be. The mouse liberated the enmeshed lion. Jennie Brewster should have beenthankful that circumstances, working in her favour, had rendered heraccount of the discoveries she made about the mines unnecessary. She wassaved the bitterness of acknowledged defeat by the cable despatch thatawaited her at Queenstown, telling her not to forward her information. The letter she received from the editor of the _Argus_ later explainedthe cable message. The _Argus_ had obtained from a different source whatpurported to be an account of the reports on the mines, and this hadbeen published. If Jennie's contribution corroborated this article, itwas unnecessary; if it contradicted what had been already published, then, of course, it was equally unavailable, for the _Argus_ was a paperthat never stultified itself by acknowledging an error. So the editorsent his correspondent a short cable message to save the expense of along and costly despatch that would have been useless when it reachedthe _Argus_ office. 

Instead, however, of being grateful to the stars that fought so well forher, Jennie became bitterly resentful against Fleming, and hardly less soagainst Miss Longworth. If it had not been for the meddling politician'sinterference, Wentworth would never have discovered who she was, and thewhole train of humiliating events that followed would not have takenplace. She would have parted with Wentworth on a friendly basis, atleast. She was forced, reluctantly, to admit to herself that she likedWentworth better than any young man she had ever before met; and now thatthere was little chance of seeing him again, her regret had become moreand more poignant as time went on. He had told her all his hopes aboutthe mica-mine before their unfortunate disaster, and had taken her intohis confidence in a way, she felt sure, he had never done with any otherwoman. She saw the earnest look in his honest eyes whenever she closedher own, and this look haunted her day and night, alternating with theremembrance of that gaze of incredulous reproach with which he regardedher when he discovered her mission, which was even harder to bear thanthe recollection of his confidence and esteem. 

And the sting of the situation lay in the fact that it had all been souseless and unnecessary. She had wounded her friend and humiliatedherself all for nothing! The rapid changes that had taken place in thenewspaper office since she left, had rendered her sacrifices futile, andwhile she had buoyed herself up on shipboard by holding that she wasmerely doing her duty to her employers, even that consolation had beenmade naught by the editor's letter. 

Thus it ever is in that kaleidoscopic, gigantic and fascinating lottery, the modern press. The sensation for which an editor to-day would sell hissoul, is to-morrow worthless. The greatest fool in the office willsometimes stumble stupidly upon the most important news of the day, whilethe cleverest reporter may be baffled in his constant fight against time, for the paper goes to press at a certain hour, and after that, effort isuseless. The conductor of a great paper is like the driver of a Romanchariot; he needs a cool head and a strong arm, with a clear eye thatpeers into the future, and that pays little heed to the victims of thewhirling scythe-blades at the hub. He may overturn a Government or behimself thrown, by an unexpected jolt, under the wheels. The fiery steedsnever stop, and when one drops the reins, another grasps them, to be inturn lost and forgotten in the mad race, wherein never a glance is castto the rear. The best brains in the country are called into requisition, squeezed, and flung aside. With a lavish but indiscriminating hand arethrown broadcast fame and dishonour, riches and disaster. Unbribable inthe ordinary sense of the word, the press will, for the accumulation ofthe smallest coins of the realm, exaggerate a cholera scare and paralyzethe business of a nation; then it will turn on a corrupt Government andrend it, although millions might be made by taking another course. It isthe terror of scoundrels and the despair of honest men. 

Jennie Brewster, in the midst of her unavailing regrets, clenched herlittle fist when she thought of Fleming. It is both customary andconsoling to place the blame on other shoulders than our own. Humannature is such an erring quantity, that usually we can find a scapegoatamong our fellow-beings, who can be made responsible for any misdeeds orfailings which are so much a part of ourselves that they escaperecognition. If Fleming had only attended his own business, as a manshould, Wentworth would never have known that Jennie wrote for the_Argus_, and Jennie might have had a friend in London who would haveadded that spice of interest to her visit which usually accompanies thefriendship of an agreeable young man for a girl so pretty andfascinating. 

Fleming put up at the hotel that Jennie had at first selected, and nowand then she met him in the extensive halls of the great building; butshe invariably passed him with the dignity of an offended queen, althoughthe unfortunate man always took off his hat, and once or twice paused asif about to speak with her. 

On the last day of her stay at the hotel, she met Fleming oftener thanever before; but it did not occur to her that the unhappy politician waslying in wait for her, never being able to muster up enough courage toaddress her when his opportunity came. At last a note was brought up tothe room she occupied, from Fleming, in which he said that he would liketo have a few moments' conversation with her, and would wait for a reply. 

'Tell him there is no reply, ' said the girl to the messenger. 

It is sometimes well to know the point of view, even of an enemy, butJenny was too angry with him to think of that. However, a politician, tobe successful, must not be easily rebuffed, and as a rule he is not. 

Fleming, when he got the curt reply to his note, threw away his cigar, put on his hat, took the lift, passed through the long corridor, andknocked at Jennie's door. 

The girl's amazement at seeing her enemy there was so great that theobvious act of shutting the door in his face did not occur to her untilit was too late, and Fleming had carelessly placed his large foot in theway of its closing. 

'How dare you come here, when I refused to see you?' she cried, with hereyes ablaze. 

'Oh, I understood the messenger to say I might come, ' replied theuntruthful politician. 'You see, it's not a personal matter, but the verybiggest sensation that ever went under the ocean on a cable, and Ithought--Well, you know, I felt I had done you--quite unintentionally--amean trick on board the _Caloric_ and this was kind of to make up for it, don't you know. 

'You can never repair what you have done. '

'Oh yes, I can, Jennie. '

'I shall be obliged to you if you remember that my name is MissBrewster, ' said the girl, drawing herself up; but Fleming noticed, withrelief, that since he had mentioned the sensation she had made no motionto close the door, while the eagerness of the newspaper woman wasgradually replacing the anger with which she had at first regarded him. 

'All right, Miss Brewster. I meant no disrespect, you know; and, honestly, I would rather give you a big item than anybody else. '

'Oh, you're very honest--I know that. '

'Well, I am, you know, Jen--I mean Miss Brewster; although I tell youit don't pay in politics any more than in the newspaper business. '

'If you only came to speak like that of the newspapers, I don't care tolisten to you. '

'Wait a minute. I don't blame you for being angry----'

'Thank you. '

'But, all the same, if you let this item get away, you'll be sorry. I'mgiving you the straight tip. I could get more gold than you ever saw forgiving this snap away, yet here you're treating me as if I were----'

'A New York politician. Why do you come to me with this valuable pieceof information? Just because you have a great regard for me, I suppose?'

'That's right. That's it exactly. '

'I thought so. Very well. There is a parlour on this floor where we cantalk without being interrupted. Come with me. '

Jennie closed the door and walked down the passage, followed by Fleming, who smiled with satisfaction at his own tact and shrewdness, as, indeed, he had every right to do. 

In the deserted sitting-room was a writing-table, and Jennie sat downbeside it, motioning Fleming to a chair opposite her. 

'Now, ' she said, drawing some paper towards her, and taking up a pen, 'what is this important bit of news?'

'Well, before we begin, ' replied Fleming, 'I would like to tell you why Iinterfered on shipboard and let that Englishman know who you were. '

'Never mind that. Better let it rest. ' There was a flash of anger in thegirl's eye, but, in spite of it, Fleming continued. He was a persistentman. 

'But it has some bearing on what I'm going to tell you. When I saw you onboard the _Caloric_, my heart went down into my boots. I thought the gamewas up, and that you were after me. I was bound to find out whether the_Argus_ knew anything of my trip or not, and whether it had put you on mytrack. Only five men in New York knew of my journey across, and as a gooddeal depended on secrecy, I had to find out in some way whether you werethere for the purpose of--well, you know. So I spoke to the Englishman, and raised a hornets' nest about my ears; but I soon saw you had nosuspicion of what I was engaged in, otherwise I would have had totelegraph to certain persons then in London, and scatter them. '

'Dear me! And what villainy were you concocting? Counterfeiting?'

'No; politics. Just as bad, I suppose you think. Now, do you know whereCrupper is?'

'The Boss of New York? I heard before I left that he was at Carlsbad forhis health. '

'He was there, ' said Fleming mysteriously; 'but now----'

The politician solemnly pointed downwards with his forefinger. 

'What! Dead?' cried Jennie, the ominous motion of Fleming's fingernaturally suggesting what all good people believed to be the arch-thief'sultimate destination. 

'No, ' said Fleming, laughing; 'he's in this hotel. '

'Oh!'

'Yes, and Senator Smollet, leader of the Conscientious Party, is heretoo, although you don't meet them in the halls as often as you do me. These good men supposed to be political opponents, are lying low andsaying nothing. '

'I see. And they've had a conference. '

'Exactly. Now, it's like this. ' Fleming pulled a sheet of paper towardshim, and drew on it an oval. 'That's New York. We'll call it apumpkin-pie, if you like, the material of which it is composed beingtypical of the heads of its conscientious citizens. Or a pigeon-pie, perhaps, for the New Yorker is made to be plucked. Well, look here. 'Fleming drew from a point in the centre several radiating lines. 'That'swhat Crupper and Smollet are doing in London. They're dividing the piebetween the two parties. '

'That's very interesting, but how are they going to deliver the pieces?'

'Simple as shelling peas. You see, our great pull is the conscientiouscitizen--the voter who wants to vote right, and for a good man. If itweren't for the good men as candidates and the good men as voters, NewYork politics would be a pretty uncertain game. You see, the so-calledrespectable element in both parties is our only hope. Each believes inhis party, thinks his crowd is better than the other fellow's, so all youhave to do is to nominate an honest man to represent each party, and thenthat divides what they call the reputable vote, and we real politiciansget our man in between the two. That's all there is in New York politics. Well, Senator Smollet threatened not to put up a good man on theconscientious ticket, and that would have turned the whole unbribablevote of both parties against us, so we had to make a deal with him, andthrow in the next Presidential election. Crupper's no hog; he knows whenhe's had plenty, and New York's good enough for him. He don't care whogets the Presidency. '

'And this conference has been held?'

'That's right. It took place in this hotel. '

'The bargain was made, I suppose?'

'It was. The pie was divided. '

'And you didn't get a slice?'

'Oh, I beg your pardon, I did!'

'Then, why do you come to me and tell me all this--if it's true?'

Honest indignation shone in Fleming's face. 

'_If_ it's true? Of course it's true. Why do I come to you? Because Iwant to be friendly with you, that's why. '

Jennie, nibbling the end of her pen, looked thoughtfully across at himfor a few moments, then slowly shook her head. 

'If you get me to believe that, Mr. Fleming, I'll not cable a word. No, Imust have an adequate motive, for I won't cable anything I don't believeto be absolutely true. '

'I assure you, Jennie----'

'Wait a moment. You say you are promised your share in the new deal, butit is not as big a slice as what you have now. It stands to reason that, if Crupper is to divide with Smollet's rascals, each of Crupper's rascalsmust content himself with a smaller piece. The greater the number ofthieves, the smaller each portion of booty. You didn't see that when youleft New York, and therefore you were afraid of publicity. You see itnow, and you want a sensational article published, so that SenatorSmollet will be forced to deny it, or further arouse the suspicions ofthe honest men in his party. In either case publicity will nullify theresults of the deal, and you will hold the share you have. As you didn'tknow any of the regular London representatives of the New York papers, you couldn't trust them not to tell on you, and so you came to me. Nowthat I see a good substantial selfish motive for your action, I am readyto believe you. '

An expression of dismay at first overspread the countenance of thepolitician, but this gave way to a look of undisguised admiration as thegirl went on. 

'By Jove, Jennie!' he cried, bringing his fist down on the table when shehad finished; 'you're wasted in the newspaper business; you ought to be apolitician! Say, girl, if you marry me, I'll be President of the UnitedStates yet. '

'Oh no, you wouldn't, ' said Jennie, quite unabashed by his handsome, ifexcited, proposal. 'No corrupt New York politician will ever be Presidentof the United States. You have the great honest bulk of the people todeal with there, and I'm Democrat enough to believe in them when it comesto big issues, however much you may befog them in small; you can't foolall people for all time, Mr. Fleming, as a man who was not in littlepolitics once said. Every now and then the awakened people will get upand smash you. '

Fleming laughed boisterously. 

'That's just it, ' he said. 'It's every now and then. If they did it everyyear I would have to quit politics. But will you send the particulars ofthis meeting to the _Argus_ without giving me away?'

'Yes, I recognise its importance. Now, I want you to give me everydetail--the number of the room they met in, the exact hour, and all that. What I like to get in a report of a secret meeting is absolute accuracyin small matters, so that those who were there will know it is notguesswork. That always takes the backbone out of future denials. I'llmention your name----'

'Bless my soul, don't do that!'

'I must say you were present. '

'Why?'

'Why? Dear me! you can't be so stupid as not to see that, if your nameis left out, suspicion will at once point to you as the divulger?'

'Yes I suppose that is so. '

'And this man is a ruler in one of the greatest cities in the world! Goon, Mr. Fleming; who else was there besides Crupper, Smollet, andyourself?'

The account--two columns and a half--was a bombshell in political NewYork the morning it appeared in the _Argus_. Senator Smollet cabled fromParis that there wasn't a word of truth in it, that he wasn't in Londonon the date mentioned, and had never seen Crupper there or elsewhere. Crupper cabled from Carlsbad that he was ill, and had not been out ofbed for a month. He would sue the _Argus_ for libel, which, by the way, he never did. The reporters flocked to meet Fleming when his steamercame in, but of course _he_ knew nothing about it; he had been acrossthe ocean solely on private business that had no connection withpolitics. He knew nothing of Crupper's whereabouts, but he knew _one_thing, which was that Crupper was too honest and honourable a man totraffic with the enemy. 

Notwithstanding all these denials, the report bore the marks of truth onits face, and everybody believed it, although many pretended not to. Thedivision of the spoils aroused the greatest consternation and indignationamong Crupper's own following, and a deputation went over to see the oldman. 

Meanwhile, the _Argus_, with much dignity of diction, explained that itstood for the best interests of the people, and in the people's cause wasfearless. It defied all and sundry to bring libel suits if they wantedto; it was prepared to battle for the people's rights. And itscirculation went up and up, its many web presses being taxed to theirutmost in supplying the demand. Thus are the truly good rewarded. 

A great newspaper is as lavishly generous as a despotic monarch, to thosewho serve it well, and the cheque which Jennie cashed when Lady Willowaccompanied her to the City lined her purse with banknotes to a fulnessthat receptacle had never known before. 

After a few weeks with Lady Willow, Jennie seemed to tire of thefrivolities of society, and even of the sedate company of the good ladywith whom she lived. She announced that she was going to Paris for a weekor two, but, owing to uncertainty of address, her letters were not to beforwarded. She merely took a hand-bag, leaving the rest of her luggagewith Lady Willow, who was thus sustained by the hope that her payingguest would soon return. 

Jennie took a hansom to Charing Cross, but instead of departing on theParis express, she hailed a four-wheeler, and, giving a West End addressto the driver, entered the closed vehicle. 

CHAPTER XXIV. 

On the big plate-glass windows of the new rooms there soon appeared, ingilt letters with black edges, the words, 'Canadian Mica Mining Company, Limited: London Offices. ' But the workmen who were finishing theinterior were not so quick as the painters and gilders. The new officestook a long time to prepare, and both Kenyon and Wentworth chafed at thedelay, because Longworth said nothing could be done until the roomswere occupied. 

'It is like this, Longworth, ' said Wentworth to him: 'every moment is ofvalue. Time is running on, and we have not for ever in which to formthis company. '

'And you must remember, ' replied young Mr. Longworth, gazingreproachfully at him through his glittering monocle, 'that I am equallyinterested in this project with you. It is just as much to my interest tosave time as it is to yours. You must not worry about the matter, Mr. Wentworth; everything is all right. The men are doing a good job for us, and it will not be long before their work is completed. As I have toldyou time and again, a great deal depends on the appearance we present tothe public. We have nearly the best offices in the City. The workmen havecertainly taken longer than I expected they would, but, you see, theyhave a great deal of work on hand. When we get this started it will nottake long. I, in the meanwhile, have not been idle. At least half a dozenmoneyed men are ready to go in with us on this project. The moment theoffices are finished we will have a meeting of the proposed shareholders. If they subscribe sufficiently large amounts--and I think they will--allthe rest is a mere matter of detail which our solicitors will attend to. But if you imagine that you and Mr. Kenyon can manage everything betterthan I am doing, you are perfectly at liberty to go ahead. I am sure Ihave no desire to monopolize all the work. What have _you_ done, forinstance? What has Mr. Kenyon done?'

'Kenyon, as I think you know, has got all the facts in reference to thedemand for the mineral, and I have arranged them. We have had everythingprinted as you suggested, and the papers are ready. They were deliveredat my office to-day. '

'Very well, ' answered young Longworth; 'we are getting on. That is somuch done which will not have to be done over again. Perhaps it will beas well to send me some of the printed matter, so that I can give it tothe men I was speaking of. Meanwhile, don't worry about the offices; theywill be ready in good time. '

Wentworth and Kenyon visited the new offices time and again, but stillthe work seemed to drag. At last Wentworth said very sharply to theforeman:

'Unless this is finished by next Monday, we will have nothing to do withit. '

The foreman seemed astonished. 

'I understood from Mr. Longworth, ' he said, 'from whom we take ourinstructions, that there was no particular hurry about this job. '

'Well, there is a particular hurry. We must be in here by the first ofnext week, and if you have not finished by that time, we shall have tocome in with it unfinished. '

'In that case, ' said the foreman, 'I will do the best I can. I think wecan finish it this week. '

And finished it was accordingly. 

When Kenyon entered his new offices, he found them rather oppressive forso modest a man as himself. Wentworth laughed at his doleful expressionas he viewed the general grandeur of his surroundings. 

'What bothers me, ' said John, 'is knowing that all this has to be paidfor. '

'Ah, yes, ' answered Wentworth; 'but by the time the debts become due Ihope we shall have plenty of money. '

'I must confess I do not understand Longworth in this matter. He seems tobe doing nothing; at least, he has nothing to show for what he has done, and he does not appear to realize that time is an object with us; infact, that our company-forming has really become a race against time. '

'Well, we shall see very shortly what he is going to do. I have sent amessenger for him to meet us here--he ought to be here now--and we mustcertainly push things. There is no time to lose. '

'Has he said anything to you--he talks more freely with you than he doesto me--about what the next move is to be?'

'No; he has said nothing. '

'Well, don't you see the situation in which we stand? We are practicallydoing nothing--leaving everything in his hands. Now, if he should tell ussome fine day that he can have nothing more to do with our project (and Ibelieve he is quite capable of it), here we are with our time nearlyspent, deeply in debt, and nothing done. '

'My dear John, what a brain you have for conjuring up awfulpossibilities! Trust me, Longworth won't act in the way you suggest. Itwould be dishonourable, and he is, so far as I know, an honourable man ofbusiness. I think you take a certain prejudice against a person, and thencan see nothing good in anything he does. Longworth told me the other daythat he had five or six people who are ready to go into this businesswith us, and if such is the case he has certainly done his share. '

'Yes, I admit that. Did he give you their names?'

'No, he did not. '

'The thing that troubles me is our own helplessness. We seem, in some wayor other, to have been shoved into the background. '

'So far from that being the case, ' said Wentworth, 'Longworth told methat, if anything suggested itself to us, we were to go ahead with it. Heasked what you had done and what I had done, and I told him. He seemedquite anxious that we should do everything we could, as he is doing. '

'Well, but, don't you see, the situation is this: if we make a move atall, we may do something of which he does not approve. Haven't younoticed that whenever I suggest anything, or whenever you suggestanything, for that matter, he always has something counter to it? And Idon't like the solicitors he has engaged for this business. They are whatis known as "shady"; you know that as well as I do. '

'Bless me, John! then suggest something yourself if you have such darksuspicions of Longworth. I'm sure I'm willing to do anything you wantdone. Suggest something. '

Before John could make the required suggestion, the messenger Wentworthhad sent to young Longworth returned. 

'His uncle says, sir, ' began the messenger, 'that Master William has goneto the North, and will not be back for a week. '

'A week!' cried both the young men together. 

'Yes, sir, a week was what he said. He left a note to be given to eitherof you if you called. Here is the note, sir. '

Wentworth took the envelope handed to him and tore it open. The contentsran thus:

'I have been suddenly called away to the North, and may be gone for aweek or ten days. I am sorry to be away at this particular juncture, butas it is not likely that the men will have the offices finished before Icome back, no great harm will be done. Meanwhile I shall see severalgentlemen I have in my mind's eye, men that seldom come to London, whowill be of great service to us. If you think of anything to forward themica-mine, pray go on with it. You can send any letters for me to myuncle, and I shall get them. As there is no hurry in the matter of time, however, I should strongly advise that nothing be done until my return, when we can all go at the business with a will. 

'Yours truly, 'WILLIAM LONGWORTH. '

When Wentworth had finished reading this letter, the two young men lookedat each other. 

'What do you make of that?' said Kenyon. 

'I'm sure I do not know. In the first place, he is gone for a week. '

'Yes; that one thing is certain. '

'Well now, John, one of two things has to be done. We have either totrust this Longworth, or we have to go on alone without him. Which isit to be?'

'I am sure I don't know, ' answered Kenyon. 

'But, my dear fellow, we have come to a point when we must decide. Youare, evidently, suspicious of Longworth. What you say really amounts tothis: that he, for some reason of his own, which I confess I cannot seeor understand, desires to delay forming this company until it is toolate. '

'I didn't say that. '

'You say what practically amounts to that. Either he is honest or he isnot. Now, we have to decide to-day, and here, whether we are going toignore him and go on with the forming of the company, or work with him. Unless you can give some good reason for doing otherwise, I propose towork with him. I think it will be very much worse if he leaves us nowthan if he had never gone into it. People will ask why he left. '

'Probably he wouldn't leave, even if you wanted him to do so. He has yoursignature to an agreement, and you have his. '

'Certainly. '

'I do not see how we can help ourselves. '

'Then I think these suspicions should be dropped, because you cannot workwith a man whom you suspect of being a rascal. '

'I quite admit of the justice of that, so I shall say nothing more. Meanwhile, do you propose to wait until he comes back?'

'I shall write him to-night and ask him what he intends to do. I shalltell him, as I have told him before, that time is pressing, and we wantto know what is being done. '

'Very well, ' said John; 'I will wait till you get the answer to yourletter. In the meantime, I do not see that there is anything to do butoccupy this gorgeous office as well as I can, and wait to see whatturns up. '

'That is my own idea. I think, myself, it is rather unfair to suspecta man of being a villain when he has really done nothing to show thathe is one. '

To this John made no answer. 

The next day Kenyon occupied the new offices, and set himself to thetask of getting accustomed to them. The first day a few people droppedin, made inquiries about the mine, took some printed matter, andgenerally managed to ask several questions to which Kenyon was unable toreply. On the second day a number of newspaper men called--advertisingcanvassers, most of them, who left cards or circulars with Kenyon, showing that unless a commercial venture was advertised in theirparticular papers it was certain not to be a success. One very swellindividual, with a cast of countenance that betokened a frugal, money-making, and shrewd race, asked Kenyon for a private interview. Hesaid he belonged to the _Financial Field_, the great newspaper of London, which was read by every investor both in the City and in the country. Allhe wanted was some particulars of the mine. 

Had the company been formed yet?

No, it had not. 

When did they intend to go to the public?

That Kenyon could not say. 

What was the peculiarity about the mine which constituted itsrecommendation to investors?

Kenyon said the full particulars would be found in the printed sheet hehanded him, and with profuse thanks the newspaper man put it in hispocket. 

How had the mine paid in previous years?

It had paid a small dividend. 

On what amount?

That Kenyon was not prepared to answer. 

How long had it been in operation?

For several years. 

Had it ever been placed on the London market before?

Not so far as Kenyon was aware. 

Who was at present interested in the mine?

That Mr. Kenyon did not care to answer, and he further stated, so far asgiving out advertisements was concerned, he was not yet prepared to doany advertising. The visitor, who had taken down these notes, said hisobject was not to get an advertisement, but to obtain information aboutthe mine. People could advertise in his paper or not, as they chose. Thejournal was such a well-known medium for reaching investors that everyonewho knew his business advertised in it as a matter of course, and so theykept no canvassers, and made no applications for advertisements. 

'The chances are, ' said the newspaper man, as he took his leave, 'thatour editor will write an editorial on this mine, and, in order that theremay be no inaccuracy, I shall bring it to you to read, and shall be verymuch obliged if you will correct any mistakes. '

'I shall be glad to do so, ' returned Kenyon, as the representative of the_Financial Field_ took his leave. 

The newspaper men were rather hard to please, and to get rid of; but Johnhad a visitor on the afternoon of the second day who almost caused hiswits to desert him. He looked up from his desk as the door opened, andwas astonished to see the smiling face of Edith Longworth, while behindher came the old lady who had been an occupant of the carriage when Johnhad taken his drive to the west. 

'You did not expect to see me here among the investors who have beencalling upon you, Mr. Kenyon, did you?'

Kenyon held out his hand, and said:

'I am very pleased indeed to see you, whether you come as an investor ornot. '

'And so this is your new office?' she cried, looking round. 'How you haveblossomed out, haven't you? These offices are as fine as any in theCity. '

'Yes, ' said John; 'they are too fine to suit me. '

'Oh, I don't see why you should not have handsome offices as well asanyone else. You have been in my father's place of business, of course. But it is not so grand as these rooms. '

'I think that helps to show the absurdity of ours. Your father's house isan old-standing one, and this gives us an air of new riches which, I mustconfess, I don't like, especially as we have not the riches. '

'Then, why did you agree to have such offices? I suppose you hadsomething to say about them?'

'Very little, I must own. They were engaged while I was in the North, andafter they had been engaged, of course I did not like to say anythingagainst them. '

'Well, and how is the mine getting on? You have not applied to me yet tofulfil my offer, which I think was a very fair one. '

'I have not needed to do so, ' said Kenyon. 

'Ah, then, subscriptions are coming in, are they? Where is the list?'

'We have no list yet. We are waiting for your cousin, who is in theNorth. '

'In the North!' said Edith, with her eyes open wide. 'He is not in theNorth; he is in Paris, and we expect him home to-night. '

'Oh, indeed!' said John, who made no further comment. 

'Now, where's your subscription-list? Oh, you told me you have none yet. Very well; this sheet of paper will do. ' And the young woman drew somelines across the paper, heading it, 'The Canadian Mica-mine. ' Thenunderneath she wrote the name Edith Longworth, and after it--'For tenthousand pounds. ' 'There! I am the first subscriber to the new company;if you get the others as easily, you will be very fortunate. '

And, before John could thank her, she laughingly turned to her companion, and said:

'We must go. '

CHAPTER XXV. 

When Wentworth dropped in to see if anything had happened, Kenyon toldhim that young Longworth was not in the North at all, but in Paris. Wentworth pondered over this piece of information for a moment, and said:

'I have written him, but have received no answer. I have just been tosee the solicitors, and have told them that time was pressing; that wemust do something. They quite agreed it was desirable some action shouldbe taken at once, but, of course, as they said, they merely waited ourinstructions. They are willing to do anything we ask them to do. However, they advised waiting until Longworth got back, and then they proposed weshould have a meeting at the offices here. They said, moreover, that, ifLongworth had five or six men who would go at work with a will, the wholeaffair would be finished in a week at most. They did not appear to be atall alarmed at the shortening time, but said everything depended upon themen Longworth was going to bring with him. If they were the right men, there would be no trouble. So, all in all, they advised me not to worryabout it, but to communicate with Longworth, if I could, and get him tocome as soon as possible. I had to admit myself that this was the onlything to do, so I called round to see if you had heard anything fromhim. '

'I have heard nothing about him, ' said Kenyon, 'except that he has lied, and has gone to Paris instead of going North. '

'Well, ' mused Wentworth, 'I don't know that that is a very importantpoint. He may have business in Paris, and he may have thought it was noaffair of ours where he went, in which he was partly right and partlywrong. He thought, no doubt, that if he said he was going North, to seesome men who could not be seen without his going there, it would relieveour minds, and make us imagine we were going on all right. '

'That is just what I object to, Wentworth. His whole demeanour seems toshow that he wants us to think things are all right when they are notall right. '

'Well, John, as I said before, you've got to do one thing or the other. You have to trust Longworth or to go on without him. Now, for Heaven'ssake make up your mind which it is to be, and don't grumble. '

'I am not grumbling. A man that is really honest will not say what isfalse, even about a small thing. '

'Oh, you are too particular. Wait till you have been in the City tenyears longer, and you won't mind a little thing like that. '

'Little things like that, as you call them, are indicative of generalcharacter. '

'Sometimes yes, and sometimes no. You mustn't take things too seriously. I do not see that anything can be done until Longworth chooses to exhibithimself. If you can suggest anything better, as I said before, tell mewhat it is, and I am ready to do my part. '

'I confess I don't see what we can do. We might wait a day or two longeryet, and then, if we hear nothing more from Longworth, dismiss thosesolicitors he has chosen, and take the gentlemen who act for you. '

'The people Longworth has engaged do not bear a very good reputation;still, I must admit they talk in a very straightforward manner. As yousay, it is perhaps better to let matters rest for a day or two. '

And so the days passed. Wentworth wrote again to Longworth at his office, and said they would wait for two days, and if he did not put in anappearance, before that time, they would go on forming the company as ifhe did not exist. 

To this no answer came, and Kenyon and Wentworth again held consultationin the sumptuous offices which had been chosen for them. 

'No news yet, I suppose?' said Kenyon. 

'None whatever, ' was the answer. 

'Very well; I have made up my mind what to do----'

But before John Kenyon could say what he had resolved to do, the dooropened, and there entered unto them Mr. William Longworth, with his silkhat as glossy as a mirror, a general trim and prosperous appearance abouthim, a flower in his buttonhole and his eyeglass in its place. 

'Good-morning, gentlemen, ' he said. 'I thought I should find you here, and so I did not call at your office, Wentworth. Ah, ' he cried, lookinground, 'this is the proper caper! These offices look even better than Ithought they would. I just got back this morning, ' he added, turning tohis partners. 

'Indeed, ' said Wentworth, 'we are very glad to see you. How did you enjoyyour trip to Paris?'

The young man did not appear in the least abashed by this remark. Hemerely elevated his eyebrows, shrugged his shoulders, and said:

'Ah, well, as both of you are doubtless aware, Paris is not what it usedto be. Still, I had a very good time there. '

'I'm glad of that, ' said Wentworth; 'and did you see the gentlemen youexpected to meet?'

'I must confess I did not. I did not think it was necessary. I have fiveor six men interested already, practically pledged to furnish all thecapital. ' And, saying this, he walked round the desk at which they stood, and sat down, throwing the right leg across the left and clasping hisknee in his hands. 

'Well, what has been done during my absence? The mine floated yet?'

'No, ' said Wentworth; 'the mine is not yet floated. Now, Mr. Longworth, the time has come for plain speaking. You have gone off to Paris withouta word of warning to us at a very critical time, and you have notanswered any of the letters I sent to you. '

'Well, my dear boy, the reason was that I expected every day to get backhere, and each day was detained a little longer. '

'Very good; the point I want to impress upon you is this--time isgetting short. If we are going to form this company, we have to set aboutit at once. '

'My dear fellow, ' said Longworth, in an expostulating tone of voice, 'that is exactly what I told myself. The time _is_ getting short, as yousay. Of course, as I said when I joined you, I cannot give my whole timeto this. We are equal partners, and the fact that I had to leave for afew days should not interrupt the business we have on hand. What did youexpect to do if I had not been a partner at all?'

'If you were not a partner, ' replied Wentworth with some heat, 'we shouldhave gone on and formed our company, or failed; but the very fact thatyou _are_ a partner is just what now retards us. We do not feel justifiedin doing anything until it has your approval, or until we know that itdoes not run counter with something you have already done. '

'Well, gentlemen, if you feel like that about it, I am quite willing towithdraw. I am ready to give up the paper I hold from you, and receiveback the paper you hold from me. Of course we cannot work together ifthere are to be any recriminations. I have done my best; I have doneeverything that I promised to do--even more than that; but if you thinkfor a moment you can get on better without me, I am ready at any timeto retire. '

'It is easy to say that, Mr. Longworth, now that the time of the optionhas only a month further to run. You must remember that a great deal oftime has been lost, and not through our fault. '

'Ah! do you mean it has been lost through my fault?'

'I mean that if we had been alone something would have been done, whereas we are now in the same position as when we started. We are in aworse position than we were at the beginning, because we have not onlyspent our money, but are deeply in debt into the bargain. '

'Well, Mr. Wentworth, I did not propose to withdraw until you, as amatter of fact, almost suggested it. I am quite willing and anxiousto help, but if I do stay with you it must be understood that wehave no such recriminations as these. You must do your best, and Imust do my best. '

'Very well, then, ' said Wentworth; 'your leaving us at this time isentirely out of the question. Now, will you give me the names of thosegentlemen who have offered to go in with us?'

'Certainly. '

And Longworth pulled out a note-book from his inside pocket, whileWentworth took up a pen from the desk and pulled a sheet of papertowards him. 

'First, Mr. Melville. '

'Is that the Melville I saw in relation to this mineral?'

'I am sure I do not know. He is at the head of the Scranton ChinaCompany. '

'Has _he_ spoken of going in with us?'

'Yes, he seems to think the scheme is a good one. Why do you ask?'

'Well, merely because I took a specimen of the mineral to him and hismanager wrote to me that it was of no value. It seems rather remarkablethat he should go in for the mine if his manager believes it to beworthless. '

'Oh, he goes in entirely in his own private capacity. He is not at allaffected by what the manager says. The manager has nothing to do withMelville's private affairs. '

'Still, it seems very strange, because, when Kenyon saw the manager inthe North, he claimed they did not use this material, and said it wouldbe of no benefit whatever to him. '

'That is very singular, ' mused Longworth. 'Well, all I can say is, Melville has intimated that he should like to have a share in this mine, so, I take it, he and the manager do not agree as to the value of themineral. You can set down Mr. Melville's name with perfect confidence. Iknow him very well, and I know that he's a thorough man of business. Besides, it will be a great advantage to have a man connected with thechina trade in with us. '

There was no denying this point, so Wentworth said nothing more. Longworth named five other persons, none of whom Wentworth knew. Then heclosed his note-book and put it in his pocket. 

'The question now is: Have these gentlemen stated how much they willsubscribe?' asked Wentworth. 

'No, they have not. Of course, everything will depend on how they areimpressed with what we can tell them. The great thing is to get men whoare willing even to listen to you. The rest depends on the inducementsyou offer. '

'Do you expect to get any more men interested?'

'I don't think any more are needed. The best thing to do now is to getthose we have together and summon our solicitors here. Then our friendKenyon, who is a fluent speaker, can lay the case before them. '

Kenyon, who had not spoken at all during the interview, did not evenlook up, and apparently did not hear the satirical allusion to hiseloquence. 

'Very well; when would be a good time to call this meeting?'

'As soon as possible, I think, ' said Longworth. 'What do you say toMonday, at three o'clock? Men come from lunch about that hour, and are ina good humour. If you send out a letter saying a meeting will be heldhere in the directors' room at three o'clock, prompt, on Monday, I willsee the men and get them to come. Of course they are generally busy, andmay have other appointments; still, we must do something, and nothing canbe done until we get them together. '

'Right; the invitations to the meeting shall be sent out at once. '

Longworth rose, went to the desk and picked up a paper. 

'What is this?' he said. 

Kenyon looked up suddenly. 

'That, ' he said, flushing slightly, 'is our first subscription. '

'Who wrote the name of Miss Edith Longworth here?'

'The young lady herself. '

'Has she been here?'

'She called, and desired to be the first subscriber. '

'Nonsense!' cried Longworth, with a frown; 'we don't want any women inthis business;' and, saying that, he tore the paper in two. 

Kenyon clenched his fist and was about to say something, when Wentworth'shand came down on his shoulder. 

'I don't think I would refuse ten thousands pounds, ' said Wentworth, 'from anybody who offered it, woman or man. Perhaps we had better seewhether your men will subscribe as much before we throw away asubscription already received. '

'But she hasn't the ten thousand pounds. '

'I fancy, ' said Wentworth, 'that whatever Miss Longworth puts her nameto, she is ready to stand by;' and with that he placed the two pieces ofpaper in a drawer. 'Now, I think that is all, ' he added; 'we will callthe meeting for Monday, and see what comes of it. '

CHAPTER XXVI. 

William Longworth had an eye for beauty. One of his eyes was generallycovered by a round disc of glass, save when the disc fell out of itsplace and dangled in front of his waistcoat. Whether the monocle assistedhis sight or not, it is certain that William knew a pretty girl when hesaw her. One of the housemaids in the Longworth household left suddenly, without just cause or provocation, as the advertisements say, and in herplace a girl was engaged who was so pretty that, when William Longworthcaught sight of her, his monocle dropped from its usual position, and hestared at her with his two natural eyes, unassisted by science. He triedto speak to her on one or two occasions when he met her alone; but hecould get no answer from the girl, who was very shy and demure, and knewher place, as people say. All this only enhanced her value in youngLongworth's estimation, and he thought highly of his cousin's taste inchoosing this young person to dust the furniture. 

William had a room in the house which was partly sitting-room and partlystudy, and there he kept many of his papers. He was supposed to ponderover matters of business in this room, and it gave him a good excuse forarriving late at the office in the morning. He had been sitting up intothe small hours, he would tell his uncle; although he would sometimesvary the excuse by saying that it was quieter at home than in the City, and that he had spent the early part of the morning in reading documents. 

The first time William got an answer from the new housemaid was when heexpressed his anxiety about the care of this room. He said that servantsgenerally were very careless, and he hoped she would attend to things, and see that his papers were kept nicely in order. This, without glancingup at him, the girl promised to do, and William thereafter found hisapartment kept with a scrupulous neatness which would have delighted themost particular of men. 

One morning when he was sitting by his table, enjoying an after-breakfastcigarette, the door opened softly, and the new housemaid entered. Seeinghim there, she seemed confused, and was about to retire, when William, throwing his cigarette away, sprang to his feet. 

'No, don't go, ' he said; 'I was just about to ring. '

The girl paused with her hand on the door. 

'Yes, ' he continued, 'I was just going to ring, but you have saved methe trouble; but, by the way, what is your name?'

'Susy, if you please, sir, ' replied the girl modestly. 

'Ah well, Susy, just shut the door for a moment. '

The girl did so, but evidently with some reluctance. 

'Well, Susy, ' said William jauntily, 'I suppose that I'm not the firstone who has told you that you are very pretty. '

'Oh, sir!' said Susy, blushing and looking down on the carpet. 

'Yes, Susy, and you take such good care of this room that I want to thankyou for it, ' continued William. 

Here he fumbled in his pocket for a moment, and drew out half asovereign. 

'Here, my girl, is something for your trouble. Keep this for yourself. '

'Oh, I couldn't think of taking money, sir, ' said the girl, drawing back. 'I couldn't indeed, sir!'

'Nonsense!' said William; 'isn't it enough?'

'Oh, it's more than enough. Miss Longworth pays me well for what I do, sir, and it's only my duty to keep things tidy. '

'Yes, Susy, that is very true; but very few of us do our duty, you know, in this world. '

'But we ought to, sir, ' said the girl, in a tone of quiet reproof thatmade the young man smile. 

'Perhaps, ' said he; 'but then, you see, we are not all pretty and good, like you. I'm sorry you won't take the money. I hope you are not offendedat me for offering it;' and William adjusted his eye-glass, looking hissweetest at the young person standing before him. 

'Oh no, sir, ' she said, 'I'm not at all offended, and I thank you verymuch, very much indeed, sir, and I would like to ask you a question, ifyou wouldn't think me too bold. '

'Bold?' cried William. 'Why, I think you are the shyest little woman Ihave ever seen. I'll be very pleased to answer any question you may askme. What is it?'

'You see, sir, I've got a little money of my own. '

'Well, I declare, Susy, this is very interesting. I'd no idea you werean heiress. '

'Oh, not an heiress, sir--far from it. It's only a little matter of fouror five hundred pounds, sir, ' said Susy, dropping him an awkward littlecurtsy, which he thought most charming. 'The money is in the bank, andearns no interest, and I thought I would like to invest it where it wouldbring in something. '

'Certainly, Susy, and a most laudable desire on your part. Was it aboutthat you wished to question me?'

'Yes, if you please, sir. I saw this paper on your desk, and I thought Iwould ask you if it would be safe for me to put my money in these mines, sir. Seeing the paper here, I supposed you had something to do with it. '

William whistled a long incredulous note, and said:

'So you have been reading my papers, have you, miss?'

'Oh no, sir, ' said the girl, looking up at him with startled eyes. 'Ionly saw the name Canadian Mica-mine on this, and the paper said it wouldpay ten per cent. , and I thought if you had anything to do with it thatmy money would be quite safe. '

'Oh, that goes without saying, ' said William; 'but if I were you, mydear, I should not put my money in the mica-mine. '

'Oh, then, you haven't anything to do with the mine, sir?'

'Yes, Susy, I have. You know, fools build houses, and wise men live inthem. '

'So I have heard, ' said Susy thoughtfully. 

'Well, two fools are building the house that we will call the CanadianMica-mine, and I am the wise man, don't you see, Susy?' said the youngman, with a sweet smile. 

'I'm afraid I don't quite understand, sir. '

'I don't suppose, Susy, ' replied the young man, with a laugh, 'thatthere are many who do; but I think in a month's time I shall own thismica-mine, and then, my dear, if you still want to own a share or two, I shall be very pleased to give you a few without your spending anymoney at all. '

'Oh, would you, sir?' cried Susy in glad surprise; 'and who owns themine now?'

'Oh, two fellows; you wouldn't know their names if I told them to you. '

'And are they going to sell it to you, sir?'

William laughed heartily, and said:

'Oh no! they themselves will be sold. '

'But how can that be if they don't own the mine? You see, I'm only a verystupid girl, and don't understand business. That's why I asked you aboutmy money. '

'I don't suppose you know what an option is, do you, Susy?'

'No, sir, I don't; I never heard of it before. '

'Well, these two young men have what is called an option on the mine, which is to say that they are to pay a certain sum of money at a certaintime and the mine is theirs; but if they don't pay the certain sum at thecertain time, the mine isn't theirs. '

'And won't they pay the money, sir?'

'No, Susy, they will not, because, don't you know, they haven't got it. Then these two fools will be sold, for they think they are going to getthe money, and they are not. '

'And you have the money to buy the mine when the option runs out, sir. '

'By Jove!' said William in surprise, 'you have a prodigious head forbusiness, Susy; I never saw anyone pick it up so fast. You will have totake lessons from me, and go on the market and speculate yourself. '

'Oh, I should like to do that, sir--I should indeed. '

'Well, ' said William kindly, 'whenever you have time, come to me, and Iwill give you lessons. '

The young man approached her, holding out his hand, but the girl slippedaway from him and opened the door. 

'I think, ' he said in a whisper, 'that you might give me a kiss after allthis valuable information. '

'Oh, Mr. William!' cried Susy, horrified. 

He stepped forward and tried to catch her, but the girl was too nimblefor him, and sprang out into the passage. 

'Surely, ' protested William, 'this is getting information under falsepretences; I expected my fee, you know. '

'And you shall have it, ' said the girl, laughing softly, 'when I get tenper cent. On my money. '

'Egad!' said William to himself as he entered his room again, 'I will seethat you get it. She's as clever an outside broker. '

When young Longworth had left for his office, Susy swept and dusted outhis room again, and then went downstairs. 

'Where's the mistress?' she asked a fellow-servant. 

'In the library, ' was the answer, and to the library Susy went, enteringthe room without knocking, much to the amazement of Edith Longworth, whosat near the window with a book in her lap. But further surprise was instore for the lady of the house. The housemaid closed the door, and then, selecting a comfortable chair, threw herself down into it, exclaiming:

'Oh dear me! I'm so tired. '

'Susy, ' said Miss Longworth, 'what is the meaning of this?'

'It means, mum, ' said Susy, 'that I'm going to chuck it. '

'Going to _what_?' asked Miss Longworth, amazed. 

'Going to chuck it. Didn't you understand? Going to give up my situation. I'm tired of it. '

'Very well, ' said the young woman, rising, 'you may give notice in theproper way. You have no right to come into this room in this impudentmanner. Be so good as to go to your own room. '

'My!' said Susy, 'you can do the dignified! I must practise and see if Ican accomplish an attitude like that. If you were a little prettier, MissLongworth, I should call that striking;' and the girl threw back her headand laughed. 

Something in the laugh aroused Miss Longworth's recollection, and a chillof fear came over her; but, looking at the girl again, she saw she wasmistaken. Susy jumped up, still laughing, and drew a pin from the littlecap she wore, flinging it on the chair; then she pulled off her wig, andstood before Edith Longworth her natural self. 

'Miss Brewster!' gasped the astonished Edith. 'What are you doing in myhouse in that disguise?'

'Oh, ' said Jennie, 'I'm an amateur housemaid. How do you think I haveacted the part? Now sit down, Miss Dignity, and I will tell you somethingabout your own family. I thought you were a set of rogues, and now I canprove it. '

'Will you leave my house this instant?' cried Edith, in anger. 'I shallnot listen to you. '

'Oh yes, you will, ' said Jennie, 'for I shall follow your own example, and not let you out until you do hear what I have to tell you. '

Saying which the amateur housemaid skipped nimbly to the door, and placedher back against it. 

CHAPTER XXVII. 

Jennie Brewster stood with her back to the door, a sweet smile on herface. 

'This is my day for acting, Miss Longworth. I think I did the _rôle_ ofhousemaid so well that it deceived several members of this family. I amnow giving an imitation of yourself in your thrilling drama, "All atSea. " Don't you think I do it most admirably?'

'Yes, ' said Edith, sitting down again. 'I wonder you did not adopt thestage as a profession. '

'I have often thought of doing so, but journalism is more exciting. '

'Perhaps. Still, it has its disappointments. When I gave my thrillingdrama, as you call it, on shipboard, I had my stage accessories arrangedto better advantage than you have now. '

'Do you mean the putting off of the boat?'

'No; I mean that the electric button was under my hand--it was impossiblefor you to ring for help. Now, while you hold the door, you cannot stopme from ringing, for the bell-rope is here beside me. '

'Yes, that is a disadvantage, I admit. Do you intend to ring, then, andhave me turned out?'

'I don't think that will be necessary. I imagine you will go quietly. '

'You are a pretty clever girl, Miss Longworth. I wish I liked you, but Idon't, so we won't waste valuable time deploring that fact. Have you nocuriosity to hear what I was going to tell you?'

'Not the slightest; but there is one thing I should like to know. '

'Oh, is there? Well, that's human, at any rate. What do you wish toknow?'

'You came here well recommended. How did you know I wanted a housemaid, and were your testimonials----'

Edith paused for a word, which Jennie promptly supplied. 

'Forged? Oh dear no! There is no necessity for doing anything criminal inthis country, if you have the money. I didn't forge them--I bought them. Didn't you write to any of the good ladies who stood sponsor for me?'

'Yes, and received most flattering accounts of you. '

'Certainly. That was part of the contract. Oh, you can do anything withmoney in London; it is a most delightful town. Then, as for knowingthere was a vacancy, that also was money. I bribed the other housemaidto leave. '

'I see. And what object had you in all this?'

Jennie Brewster laughed--the same silvery laugh that had charmed WilliamLongworth an hour or two before, a laugh that sometimes hauntedWentworth's memory in the City. She left her sentinel-like position atthe door and threw herself into a chair. 

'Miss Longworth, ' she said, 'you are not consistent. You first pretendthat you have no curiosity to hear what I have to say, then you ask meexactly what I was going to tell you. Of course, you are dying to knowwhy I am here; you wouldn't be a woman if you weren't. Now, I've changedmy mind, and I don't intend to tell you. I will say, though, that myobject in coming here was, first, to find out for myself how servants aretreated in this country. You see, my sympathies are all with the womenwho work, and not with women--well, like yourself, for instance. '

'Yes, I think you said that once before. And how do we treat ourservants?'

'So far as my experience goes, very well indeed. '

'It is most gratifying to hear you say this. I was afraid we might nothave met with your approval. And now, where shall I send your month'smoney, Miss Brewster?'

Jennie Brewster leaned back in her chair, her eyes all but closed; anangry light shooting from them reminded Edith of her glance of hatred onboard the steamship. A rich warm colour overspread her fair face, and herlips closed tightly. There was a moment's silence, and then Jennie'sindignation passed away as quickly as it came. She laughed, with just atouch of restraint in her tone. 

'You can say an insulting thing more calmly and sweetly than anyone Iever met before; I envy you that. When I say anything low down and mean, I say it in anger, and my voice has a certain amount of acridity in it. Ican't purr like a cat and scratch at the same time--I wish I could. '

'Is it an insult to offer you the money you have earned?'

'Yes, it is, and you knew it was when you spoke. You don't understand mea little bit. '

'Is it necessary that I should?'

'I don't suppose you think it is, ' said Jennie meditatively, resting herelbow on her knee and her chin on her palm. 'That is where our point ofview differs. I like to know everything. It interests me to learn whatpeople think and talk about, and somehow it doesn't seem to matter to mewho the people are, for I was even more interested in your butler'spolitical opinions than I was in Lord Frederick Bingham's. They are bothConservatives, but Lord Freddie seems shaky in his views, for you canargue him down in five minutes, but the butler is as steadfast as a rock. I do admire that butler. I hope you will break the news of my departuregently to him, for he proposed to me, and he has not yet had his answer. '

'There is still time, ' said Edith, smiling in spite of herself. 'Shall Iring for him?'

'Please do not. I want to avoid a painful scene, because he is so sure ofhimself, and never dreams of a refusal. It is such a pity, too, for thebutler is my ideal of what a member of the aristocracy should be. Hisdignity is positively awe-inspiring; while Lord Freddie is such a simple, good-natured, everyday young fellow, that if I imported him to the StatesI am sure no one would believe he was a real lord. With the butler itwould be _so_ different, ' added Jennie, with a deep sigh. 

'It is too bad that you cannot exchange the declaration of the butler forone from Lord Frederick. '

'Too bad!' cried Jennie, looking with wide-open eyes at the girl beforeher; 'why, bless you! I had a proposal from Lord Freddie two weeks beforeI ever saw the butler. I see you don't believe a word I say. Well, youask Lord Freddie. I'll introduce you, and tell him you don't believe heasked me to be Lady Freddie, if that's the title. He'll look sheepish, but he won't deny it. You see, when I found I was going to stay inEngland for a time, I wrote to the editor of the _Argus_ to get me abunch of letters of introduction and send them over, as I wantedparticularly to study the aristocracy. So he sent them, and, I assureyou, I found it much more difficult to get into your servants' hall thanI did into the halls of the nobility--besides, it costs less to mix withthe Upper Ten. '

Edith sat in silence, looking with amazed interest at the girl, whotalked so rapidly that there was sometimes difficulty in followingwhat she said. 

'No, Lord Freddie is not half so condescending as the butler, neither ishis language so well chosen; but then, I suppose, the butler's had morepractice, for Freddie is very young. I am exceedingly disappointed withthe aristocracy. They are not nearly so haughty as I had imagined themto be. But what astonishes me in this country is the way you womenspoil the men. You are much too good to them. You pet them and fawn onthem, and naturally they get conceited. It is such a pity, too; forthey are nice fellows, most of them. It is the same everywhere I'vebeen--servants' hall included. Why, when you meet a young couple, of whatyou are pleased to call the "lower classes, " walking in the Park, the manhangs down his head as he slouches along, but the girl looks defiantly atyou, as much as to say, "I've got him. Bless him! What have you to sayabout it?" while the man seems to be ashamed of himself, and evidentlyfeels that he's been had. Now, a man should be made to understand thatyou're doing him a great favour when you give him a civil word. That'sthe proper state of mind to keep a man in, and then you can do what youlike with him. I generally make him propose, so as to get it over beforeany real harm's done, and to give an artistic finish to the episode. After that we can be excellent friends, and have a jolly time. That's theway I did with Lord Freddie. Now, here am I, chattering away as if I werepaid for talking instead of writing. Why do you look at me so? Don't youbelieve what I tell you?'

'Yes, I believe all you say. What I can't understand is, why a brightgirl like you should enter a house and, --well, do what you have donehere, for instance. '

'Why shouldn't I? I am after accurate information. I get it in my ownway. Your writers here tell how the poor live, and that sort of thing. They enter the houses of the poor quite unblushingly, and print theirimpressions of the poverty-stricken homes. Now, why should the rich manbe exempt from a similar investigation?'

'In either case it is the work of a spy. '

'Yes; but a spy is not a dishonourable person--at least, he need not be. I saw a monument in Westminster Abbey to a man who was hanged as a spy. Aspy must be brave; he must have nerve, caution, and resource. Hesometimes does more for his country than a whole regiment. Oh, there areworse persons than spies in this world. '

'I suppose there are, still----'

'Yes, I know. It is easy for persons with plenty of money to moralize onthe shortcomings of others. I'll tell you a secret. I'm writing a book, and if it's a success, then good-bye to journalism. I don't like the spybusiness myself any too well; I'm afraid England is contaminating me, andif I stayed here a few years I might degenerate so far as to think yournewspapers interesting. By the way, have you seen Mr. Wentworth lately?'

Edith hesitated a moment, and at last answered:

'Yes, I saw him a day or two ago. '

'Was he looking well? I think I ought to write him a note of apology forall the anxiety I caused him on board ship. You may not believe it, but Ihave actually had some twinges of conscience over that episode. I supposethat's why I partially forgave you for stopping the cablegram. '

Edith Longworth was astonished at herself for giving the young womaninformation about Wentworth, but she gave it, and the amateur housemaiddeparted in peace, saying, by way of farewell:

'I'm not going to write up your household, after all. '

CHAPTER XXVIII. 

One day when Kenyon entered the office, the clerk said to him:

'That young gentleman has been here twice to see you. He said it was veryimportant, sir. '

'What young gentleman?'

'The gentleman--here is his card--who belongs to the _Financial Field_, sir. '

'Did he leave any message?'

'Yes, sir; he said he would call again at three o'clock. '

'Very good, ' said Kenyon; and he began composing his address to theproposed subscribers. 

At three o'clock the smooth, oily person from the _Financial Field_ putin an appearance. 

'Ah, Mr. Kenyon, ' he said, 'I am glad to meet you. I called in twice, but had not the good fortune to find you in. Can I see you in privatefor a moment?'

'Yes, ' answered Kenyon. 'Come into the directors' room;' and into thedirectors room they went, Kenyon closing the door behind them. 

'Now, ' said the representative of the _Financial Field_, 'I have broughtyou a proof of the editorial we propose using, which I am desired by theproprietor to show you, so that it may be free, if possible, from anyerror. We are very anxious to have things correct in the _FinancialField_;' and with this he handed to John a long slip of paper with acolumn of printed matter upon it. 

The article was headed, 'The Canadian Mica Mining Company, Limited. ' Itwent on to show what the mine had been, what it had done, and whatchances there were for investors getting a good return for their money bybuying the shares. John read it through carefully. 

'That is a very handsome article, ' he said; 'and it is without an error, so far as I can see. '

'I am glad you think so, ' replied the young gentleman, folding up theproof and putting it in his inside pocket. 'Now, as I said before, although I am not the advertising canvasser of the _Financial Field_, I thought I would see you with reference to an advertisement for thepaper. '

'Well, you know, we have not had a meeting of the proposed stockholdersyet, and therefore are not in a position to give any advertisementsregarding the mine. I have no doubt advertisements will be given, and, ofcourse, your paper will be remembered among the rest. '

'Ah, ' said the young man, 'that is hardly satisfactory to us. We have avacant half-page for Monday, the very best position in the paper, whichthe proprietor thought you would like to secure. '

'As I said a moment ago, we are not in a position to secure it. It ispremature to talk of advertising at the present state of affairs. '

'I think, you know, it will be to your interest to take the half-page. The price is three hundred pounds, and besides that amount we should liketo have some shares in the company. '

'Do you mean three hundred pounds for one insertion of theadvertisement?'

'Yes. '

'Doesn't that strike you as being a trifle exorbitant? Your paper has acomparatively limited circulation, and they do not ask us such a priceeven in the large dailies. '

'Ah, my dear sir, the large dailies are quite different. They have atremendous circulation, it is true, but it is not the kind of circulationwe have. No other paper circulates so largely among investors as the_Financial Field. _ It is read by exactly the class of people you desireto reach, and I may say that, except through the _Financial Field_, youcannot get at some of the best men in the City. '

'Well, admitting all that, as I have said once or twice, we are not yetin a position to give an advertisement. '

'Then, I am very sorry to say that we cannot, on Monday, publish thearticle I have shown you. '

'Very well; I cannot help it. You are not compelled to print it unlessyou wish. I am not sure, either, that publishing the article on Mondaywould do us any good. It would be premature, as I say. We are not yetready to court publicity until we have had our first meeting of proposedstockholders. '

'When is your first meeting of stockholders?'

'On Monday, at three o'clock. '

'Very well, we could put that announcement in another column, and I amsure you would find the attendance at your meeting would be very largelyand substantially increased. '

'Possibly; but I decline to do anything till after the meeting. '

'I think you would find it pay you extremely well to take thathalf-page. '

'I am not questioning the fact at all. I am merely saying what I havesaid to everyone else, that we are not ready to consider advertising. '

'I am sorry we cannot come to an arrangement, Mr. Kenyon--very sorryindeed;' and, saying this, he took another proof-sheet out of his pocket, which he handed to Kenyon. 'If we cannot come to an understanding, themanager has determined to print this, instead of the article I showedyou. Would you kindly glance over it, because we should like to have itas correct as possible. '

Kenyon opened his eyes, and unfolded the paper. The heading was the same, but he had read only a sentence or two when he found that the mica-minewas one of the greatest swindles ever attempted on poor old innocentfinancial London!

'Do you mean to say, ' cried John, looking up at him, with his angerkindling, 'that if I do not bribe you to the extent of three hundredpounds, besides giving you an unknown quantity of stock, you will publishthis libel?'

'I do not say it is a libel, ' said the young man smoothly; 'that would bea matter for the courts to decide. You might sue us for libel, if youthought we had treated you badly. I may say that has been tried severaltimes, but with indifferent success. '

'But do you mean to tell me that you intend to publish this article if Ido not pay you the three hundred pounds?'

'Yes; putting it crudely, that is exactly what I do mean. '

Kenyon rose in his wrath and flung open the door. 

'I must ask you to leave this place, and leave it at once. If you everput in an appearance here again while I am in the office, I will call apoliceman and have you turned out!'

'My dear sir, ' expostulated the other suavely, 'it is merely a matter ofbusiness. If you find it impossible to deal with us, there is no harmdone. If our paper has no influence, we cannot possibly injure you. That, of course, is entirely for you to judge. If, any time between now andSunday night, you conclude to act otherwise, a wire to our office willhold things over until we have had an opportunity of coming to anarrangement with you. If not, this article will be published on Mondaymorning. I wish you a very good afternoon, sir. '

John said nothing, but watched his visitor out on the pavement, and thenreturned to the making of his report. 

On Monday morning, as he came in by train, his eye caught a flamingposter on one of the bill-boards at the station. It was headed _FinancialField_, and the next line, in heavy black letters, was, 'The Mica MiningSwindle, ' Kenyon called a newsboy to him and bought a copy of the paper. There, in leaded type, was the article before him. It seemed, somehow, much more important on the printed page than it had looked in the proof. 

As he read it, he noticed an air of truthful sincerity about theeditorial that had escaped him during the brief glance he had given it onFriday. It went on to say that the Austrian Mining Company had sunk agood deal of money in the mine, and that it had never paid a penny ofdividends; that they merely kept on at a constant loss to themselves inthe hope of being able to swindle some confiding investors--but that eventheir designs were as nothing compared to the barefaced rascalitycontemplated by John Kenyon. He caught his breath as he saw his own namein print. It was a shock for which he was not prepared, as he had notnoticed it in the proof. Then he read on. It seemed that this man, Kenyon, had secured the mine at something like ten thousand pounds, andwas trying to palm it off on the unfortunate British public at theenormous increase of two hundred thousand pounds; but this nefariousattempt would doubtless be frustrated so long as there were papers of theintegrity of the _Financial Field_, to take the risk and expense ofmaking such an exposure as was here set forth. 

The article possessed a singular fascination for Kenyon. He read andre-read it in a dazed way, as if the statement referred to some otherperson, and he could not help feeling sorry for that person. 

He still had the paper in his hand as he walked up the street, and hefelt numbed and dazed as if someone had struck him a blow. He was nearlyrun over in crossing one of the thoroughfares, and heard an outburst ofprofanity directed at him from a cab-driver and a man on a bus; but heheeded them not, walking through the crowd as if under a spell. 

He passed the door of his own gorgeous office, and walked some distanceup the street before he realized what he had done. Then he turned backagain, and, just at the doorstep, paused with a pang at his heart. 

'I wonder if Edith Longworth will read that article, ' he said to himself. 

CHAPTER XXIX. 

When John Kenyon entered his office, he thought the clerk looked at himaskance. He imagined that innocent employee had been reading the articlein the _Financial Field_; but the truth is, John was hardly in a frame ofmind to form a correct opinion on what other people were doing. Everybodyhe met in the street, it seemed to him, was discussing the article in the_Financial Field_. 

He asked if anybody had been in that morning, and was told there had beenno callers. Then he passed into the directors' room, closed the doorbehind him, sat down on a chair, and leaned his head on his hands withhis elbows on the table. In this position Wentworth found him some timelater, and when John looked up his face was haggard and aged. 

'Ah, I see you have read it. '

'Yes. '

'Do you think Longworth is at the bottom of that article?'

John shook his head. 

'Oh no, ' he said; 'he had nothing whatever to do with it. '

'How do you know?'

Kenyon related exactly what had passed between the oily young man of the_Financial Field_ and himself in that very room. While this recital wasgoing on, Wentworth walked up and down, expressing his opinion now andthen, in remarks that were short and pithy, but hardly fit forpublication. When the story was told he turned to Kenyon. 

'Well, ' he said, 'there is nothing for it but to sue the paper forlibel. '

'What good will that do?'

'What good will it do? Do you mean to say that you intend to sit hereunder such an imputation as they have cast upon you, and do nothing? What_good_ will it do? It will do all the good in the world. '

'We cannot form our company and sue the paper at the same time. All ourenergies will have to be directed towards the matter we have in hand. '

'But, my dear John, don't you see the effect of that article? How can weform our company if such a lie remains unchallenged? Nobody will look atour proposals. Everyone will say, "What have you done about the articlethat appeared in the _Financial Field_?" If we say we have done nothing, then, of course, the natural inference is that we are a pair ofswindlers, and that our scheme is a fraud. '

'I have always thought, ' said John, 'that the capitalization is toohigh. '

'Really, I believe you think that article is not so unfair, after all. John, I'm astonished at you!'

'But if we do commence a libel suit, it cannot be finished before ouroption has expired. If we tell people that we have begun a suit againstthe _Financial Field_ for libel, they will merely say they prefer to waitand hear what the result of the case is. By that time our chances offorming a company will be gone. '

'There is a certain amount of truth in that; nevertheless, I do not seehow we are to go on with our company unless suit for libel is at leastbegun. '

Before John could reply there was a knock at the door, and the clerkentered with a letter in his hand which had just come in. Kenyon tore itopen, read it, and then tossed it across the table to Wentworth. Wentworth saw the name of their firm of solicitors at the top of theletter-paper. Then he read:

'DEAR SIR, 'You have doubtless seen the article in the _Financial Field_ of thismorning, referring to the Canadian Mica Mining Company. We should bepleased to know what action you intend to take in the matter. We maysay that, in justice to our reputation, we can no longer representyour company unless a suit is brought against the paper which containsthe article. 

'Yours truly, 'W. HAWK. '

Wentworth laughed with a certain bitterness. 

'Well, ' he said, 'if it has come to such a pass that Hawk fears for hisreputation, the sooner we begin a libel suit against the paper thebetter!'

'Perhaps, ' said John, with a look of agony on his face, 'you will tell mewhere the money is to come from. The moment we get into the Law Courtsmoney will simply flow like water, and doubtless the _Financial Field_has plenty of it. It will add to their reputation, and they will make aboast that they are fighting the battle of the investor in London. Everything is grist that comes to their mill. Meanwhile, we shall bepaying out money, or we shall be at a tremendous disadvantage, and theresult of it all will probably be a disagreement of the jury andpractical ruin for us. You see, I have no witnesses. '

'Yes, but what about the mine? How can we go on without vindicatingourselves?'

Before anything further could be said, young Mr. Longworth came in, looking as cool, calm, and unruffled as if there were no such things inthe world as financial newspapers. 

'Discussing it, I see, ' were his first words. 

'Yes, ' said Wentworth; 'I am very glad you have come. We have a littledifference of opinion in the matter of that article. Kenyon here isaverse to suing that paper for libel; I am in favour of prosecuting it. Now, what do _you_ say?'

'My dear fellow, ' replied Longworth, 'I am delighted to be able to agreewith Mr. Kenyon for once. Sue them! Why, of course not. That is just whatthey want. '

'But, ' said Wentworth, 'if we do not, who is going to look at our mine?'

'Exactly the same number of people as would look at it before the articleappeared. '

'Don't you think it will have any effect?'

'Not the slightest. '

'But look at this letter from your own lawyers on the subject. ' Wentworthhanded Longworth the letter from Hawk. Longworth adjusted his glass andread it carefully through. 

'By Jove!' he said with a laugh, 'I call that good; I call thatdistinctly good. I had no idea old Hawk was such a humorist! Hisreputation indeed; well, that beats me! All that Hawk wants is anothersuit on his hands. I wish you would let me keep this letter. I will havesome fun with my friend Hawk over it. '

'You are welcome to the letter, so far as I am concerned, ' saidWentworth; 'but do you mean to say, Mr. Longworth, that we have to sithere calmly under this imputation and do nothing?'

'I mean to say nothing of the kind; but I don't propose to play intotheir hands by suing them--at least, I should not if it were my caseinstead of Kenyon's. '

'What would you do?'

'I would let them sue me if they wanted to. Of course, their canvassercalled to see you, didn't he, Kenyon?'

'Yes, he did. '

'He told you that he had a certain amount of space to sell for a certainsum in cash?'

'Yes. '

'And, if you did not buy that space, this certain article would appear;whereas, if you did, an article of quite a different complexion wouldbe printed?'

'You seem to know all about it, ' said Kenyon suspiciously. 

'Of course I do, my dear boy! Everybody knows all about it. That's theway those papers make their money. I think myself, as a general rule, itis cheaper to buy them off. I believe my uncle always does that when hehas anything special on hand, and doesn't want to be bothered withoutside issues. But we haven't done so in this instance, and this is theresult. It can be easily remedied yet, mind you, if you like. All thatyou have to do is to pay his price, and there will be an equally lengthyarticle saying that, from outside information received with regard to theCanadian Mining Company, he regrets very much that the former article wasan entire mistake, and that there is no more secure investment in Englandthan this particular mine. But now, when he has come out with hiseditorial, I think it isn't worth while to have any further dealingswith him. Anything he can say now will not matter. He has done all theharm he can. But I would at once put the boot on the other foot. I wouldwrite down all the circumstances just as they happened--give the name ofthe young man who called upon you, tell exactly the price he demanded forhis silence, and I will have that printed in an opposition paperto-morrow. Then it will be our friend the _Financial Field's_ turn tosquirm! He will say it is all a lie, of course, but nobody will believehim, and we can tell him, from the opposition paper, that if it is a liehe is perfectly at liberty to sue us for libel. Let him begin the suit ifhe wants to do so. Let him defend his reputation. Sue him for libel! Iknow a game worth two of that. Could you get out the statement before themeeting this afternoon?'

Kenyon, who had been looking, for the first time in his life, gratefullyat Longworth, said he could. 

'Very well; just set it down in your own words as plainly as possible, and give date, hour, and full particulars. Sign your name to it, and Iwill take it when I come to the meeting this afternoon. It would not bea bad plan to read it to those who are here. There is nothing likefighting the devil with fire. Fight a paper with another paper. Nothingnew, I suppose?'

'No, ' said Kenyon; 'nothing new except what we are discussing. '

'Well, don't let that trouble you. Do as I say, and we will begin aninteresting controversy. People like a fight, and it will attractattention to the mine. Good-bye. I shall see you this afternoon. '

He left both Kenyon and Wentworth in a much happier frame of mind thanthat in which he had found them. 

'I say, Kenyon, ' said Wentworth, 'that fellow is a trump. His advice hascleared the air wonderfully. I believe his plan is the best, after all, and, as you say, we have no money for an expensive lawsuit. I shall leaveyou now to get on with your work, and will return at three o'clock. '

At that hour John had his statement finished. The first man to arrive wasLongworth, who read the article with approval, merely suggesting a changehere and there, which was duly made. Then he put the communication intoan envelope, and sent it to the editor of the opposition paper. Wentworthcame in next, then Melville, then Mr. King. After this they all adjournedto the directors' room, and in a few minutes the others were present. 

'Now, ' said Longworth, 'as we are all here, I do not see any necessityfor delay. You have probably read the article that appeared in thismorning's _Financial Field_. Mr. Kenyon has written a statement inrelation to that, which gives the full particulars of the inside of avery disreputable piece of business. It was merely an attempt atblackmailing which failed. I intended to have had the statement read toyou, but we thought it best to get it off as quickly as possible, and itwill appear to-morrow in the _Financial Eagle_, where, I hope, you willall read it. Now, Mr. Kenyon, perhaps you will tell us something aboutthe mine. '

Kenyon, like many men of worth and not of words, was a very poor speaker. He seemed confused, and was often a little obscure in his remarks, but hewas listened to with great attention by those present. He was helpedhere and there by a judicious question from young Longworth, and when hesat down the impression was not so bad as might have been expected. Aftera moment's silence, it was Mr. King who spoke. 

'As I take it, ' he said, 'all we wish to know is this: Is the mine whatit is represented to be? Is the mineral the best for the use Mr. Kenyonhas indicated? Is there a sufficient quantity of that mineral in themountain he speaks of to make it worth while to organize this company? Itseems to me that this can only be answered by some practical man goingout there and seeing the mine for himself. Mr. Melville is, I understand, a practical man. If he has the time to spare, I would propose that heshould go to America, see this mine, and report. '

Another person asked when the option on the mine ran out. This wasanswered by Longworth, who said that the person who went over andreported on the mine could cable the word 'Right' or 'Wrong'; then therewould be time to act in London in getting up the list of subscribers. 

'I suppose, ' said another, 'that in case of delay there would be notrouble in renewing the option for a month or two?'

To this Kenyon replied that he did not know. The owners might put ahigher price on the property, or the mine might be producing more micathan it had been heretofore, and they perhaps might not be inclined tosell. He thought that things should be arranged so that there would beno necessity of asking for an extension of the option, and to this theyall agreed. 

Melville then said he had no objection to taking a trip to Canada. Itwas merely a question of the amount of the mineral in sight, and hethought he could determine that as well as anybody else. And so thematter was about to be settled, when Longworth rose, and said that he wasperfectly willing to go to Canada himself, in company with Mr. Melville;that he would pay all his own expenses, and give them the benefit of hisopinion as well. This was received with applause, and the meetingterminated. Longworth shook hands with Kenyon and Wentworth. 

'We will sail by the first steamer, ' he said, 'and, as I may not see youagain, you might write me a letter of introduction to Mr. Von Brent, andtell him that I am acting for you in this affair. That will make matterssmooth in getting an extension of the option, if it should be necessary. '

CHAPTER XXX. 

Kenyon was on his way to lunch next day, when he met Wentworth at thedoor. 

'Going to feed?' asked the latter. 

'Yes. '

'Very well; I'll go with you. I couldn't stay last night to have a talkwith you over the meeting; but what did you think of it?'

'Well, considering the article which appeared in the morning, andconsidering also the exhibition I made of myself in attempting to explainthe merits of the mine, I think things went off rather smoothly. '

'So do I. It doesn't strike you that they went off a little _too_smoothly, does it?'

'What do you mean?'

'I don't know exactly what I mean. I merely wanted to get your ownopinion about it. You see, I have attended a great many gatherings ofthis sort, and it struck me there was a certain cut-and-driedness aboutthe meeting. I can't say whether it impressed me favourably orunfavourably, but I noticed it. '

'I still don't understand what you mean. '

'Well, as a general thing in such meetings, when a man gets up andproposes a certain action there is some opposition, or somebody has asuggestion to make, or something better to propose--or thinks he has--andso there is a good deal of talk. Now, when King got up and proposedcalmly that Melville should go to America, it appeared to me rather anextraordinary thing to do, unless he had consulted Melville beforehand. '

'Perhaps he had done so. '

'Yes, perhaps. What do you think of it all?'

Kenyon mused for a moment before he replied:

'As I said before, I thought things went off very smoothly. Whom do yoususpect--young Longworth?'

'I do not know whom I suspect. I am merely getting anxious about theshortness of the time. I think, myself, you ought to go to America. Thereis nothing to be done here. You should go, see Von Brent, and get arenewal of the option. Don't you see that when they get over there, allowing them a few days in New York, and a day or two to get out to themine, we shall have little more than a week, after the cable despatchcomes, in which to do anything, should they happen to reportunfavourably. '

'Yes, I see that. Still, it is only a question of facts on which theyhave to report, and you know, as well as I do, that no truthful men canreport unfavourably on what we have certified. We have understated thecase in every instance. '

'I know that. I am perfectly well aware of that. Everything is all rightif--if--Longworth is dealing honestly with us. If he is not, theneverything is all wrong, and I should feel a great deal easier if we hadin our possession another three months' option of the mine. We are now atthe fag-end of this option, and, it seems to me, as protection toourselves, we ought either to write to Von Brent--By the way, have youever written to him?'

'I wrote one letter telling him how we were getting on, but have receivedno answer; perhaps he is not in Ottawa at present. '

'Well, I think you ought to go to the mine with Longworth and Melville. It is the conjunction of those two men that makes me suspicious. I can'ttell what I distrust. I can give nothing definite; but I have a vagueuneasiness when I think that the man who tried to mislead us regardingthe value of the mineral is going with the man who has led us into allthis expense. Longworth refused to go into the scheme in the first place, pretended he had forgotten all about it in the second place, and thensuddenly developed an interest. '

John knitted his brows and said nothing. 

'I don't want to worry you about it, but I am anxious to have your candidopinion. What had we better do?'

'It seems to me, ' said John, after a pause, 'that we can do nothing. Itis a very perplexing situation. I think, however, we should turn it overin our minds for a few days, and then I can get to America in plenty oftime, if necessary. '

'Very well, suppose we give them ten days to get to the mine and reply. If no reply comes by the eleventh day then you will still have eighteenor nineteen days before the option expires. Put it at twelve days. Ipropose, if you hear nothing by then, you go over. '

'Right, ' said John; 'we may take that as settled. '

'By the way, you got an invitation to-day, did you not?'

'Yes. '

'Are you going?'

'I do not know. I should like to go and yet, you know, I am entirelyunused to fashionable assemblages. I should not know what to say or dowhile I was there. '

'As I understand, it is not to be a fashionable party, but merely alittle friendly gathering which Miss Longworth gives because her cousinis about to sail for Canada. I don't want to flatter you, John, at all, but I imagine Miss Longworth would be rather disappointed if you did notput in an appearance. Besides, as we are partners with Longworth in this, and as he is going away on account of the mine. I think it would be alittle ungracious of us not to go. '

'Very well, I will go. Shall I call for you, or will you come for me?'

'I will call for you and we will go there together in a cab. Be readyabout eight o'clock. '

The mansion of the Longworths was brilliantly lighted, and John feltrather faint-hearted as he stood on the steps before going in. Thechances are he would not have had the courage to allow himself to beannounced if his friend Wentworth had not been with him. George, however, had no such qualms, being more experienced in this kind ofthing than his comrade. So they entered together, and were warmlygreeted by the young hostess. 

'It is so kind of you to come, ' she said, 'on such short notice. I wasafraid you might have had some prior engagement, and would have found itimpossible to be with us. '

'You must not think that of me, ' said Wentworth. 'I was certain to come;but I must confess my friend Kenyon here was rather difficult to manage. He seems to frown on social festivities, and actually had the coolness topropose that we should both plead more important business. '

Edith looked reproachfully at Kenyon, who flushed to the temples, as washis custom, and said:

'Now, Wentworth, that is unfair. You must not mind what he says, MissLongworth; he likes to bring confusion on me, and he knows how to do it. I certainly said nothing about a prior engagement. '

'Well, now you are here, I hope you will enjoy yourselves. It is quite aninformal little gathering, with nothing to abash even Mr. Kenyon. '

They found young Longworth there in company with Melville, who was to behis companion on the voyage. He shook hands, but without exhibiting thepleasure at meeting them which his cousin had shown. 

'My cousin, ' said the young man, 'seems resolved to make the going of theprodigal nephew an occasion for killing the fatted calf. I'm sure I don'tknow why, unless it is that she is glad to be rid of me for a month. '

Edith laughed at this, and left the men together. Wentworth speedilycontrived to make himself agreeable to the young ladies who were present;but John, it must be admitted, felt awkward and out of place. He was notenjoying himself. He caught himself now and then following EdithLongworth with his eyes, and when he realized he was doing this, wouldabruptly look at the floor. In her handsome evening dress she appearedsupremely lovely, and this John Kenyon admitted to himself with a sigh, for her very loveliness seemed to place her further and further away fromhim. Somebody played something on the piano, and this was, in a way, arespite for John. He felt that nobody was looking at him. Then a youngman gave a recitation, which was very well received, and Kenyon began toforget his uneasiness. A German gentleman with long hair sat down at thepiano with a good deal of importance in his demeanour. There was mucharranging of music, and finally, when the leaves were settled to hissatisfaction, there was a tremendous crash of chords, the beginning ofwhat was evidently going to be a troublesome time for the piano. In themidst of this hurricane of sound John Kenyon became aware that EdithLongworth had sat down beside him. 

'I have got everyone comfortably settled with everyone else, ' she saidin a whisper to him, 'and you seem to be the only one who is, as itwere, out in the cold, so, you see, I have done you the honour to comeand talk to you. '

'It is indeed an honour, ' said John earnestly. 

'Oh, really, ' said the young woman, laughing very softly, 'you must nottake things so seriously. I didn't mean quite what I said, youknow--that was only, as the children say, "pretended"; but you take one'slight remarks as if they were most weighty sentences. Now, you must lookas if you were entertaining me charmingly, whereas I have sat down besideyou to have a very few minutes' talk on business; I know it's very badform to talk business at an evening party, but, you see, I have no otherchance to speak with you. I understand you have had a meeting ofshareholders, and yet you never sent me an invitation. I told you that Iwished to help you in forming a company; but that is the way you businessmen always treat a woman. '

'Really, Miss Longworth, ' began Kenyon; but she speedily interrupted him. 

'I am not going to let you make any explanation. I have come over here toenjoy scolding you, and I am not to be cheated out of my pleasure. '

'I think, ' said John, 'if you knew how much I have suffered during thislast day or two, you would be very lenient with me. Did you read thatarticle upon me in the _Financial Field_?'

'No, I did not, but I read your reply to it this morning, and I think itwas excellent. '

'Ah, that was hardly fair. A person should read both sides of thequestion before passing judgment. '

'It is a woman's idea of fairness, ' said Edith, 'to read what pertains toher friend, and to form her judgment without hearing the other side. Butyou must not think I am going to forego scolding you because of mysympathy with you. Don't you remember you promised to let me know howyour company was progressing from time to time, and here I have neverhad a word from you; now tell me how you have been getting on. '

'I hardly know, but I think we are doing very well indeed. You know, ofcourse, that your cousin is going to America to report upon the mine. AsI have stated nothing but what is perfectly true about the property, there can be no question as to what that report will be, so it seems tome everything is going on nicely. '

'Why do not you go to America?'

'Ah, well, I am an interested party, and those who are thinking of goingin with us have my report already. It is necessary to corroborate that. When it is corroborated, I expect we shall have no trouble in formingthe company. '

'And was William chosen by those men to go to Canada?'

'He was not exactly chosen; he volunteered. Mr. Melville here was the onewho was chosen. '

'And why Mr. Melville more than you, for instance?'

'Well, as I said, I am out of the question because I am an interestedparty. Melville is a man connected with china works, and as such, in ameasure, an expert. '

'Is Mr. Melville a friend of yours?'

'No, he is not. I never saw him until he came to the meeting. '

'Do you know, ' she said, lowering her voice and bending towards him, 'that I do not like Mr. Melville's face?' Kenyon glanced at Melville, whowas at the other side of the room, and Edith went on: 'You must not lookat people when I mention them in that way, or they will know we aretalking about them. I do not like his face. He is too handsome a man, andI don't like handsome men. '

'Don't you, really, ' said John; 'then, you ought to----'

Edith laughed softly, a low, musical laugh that was not heard above thepiano din, and was intended for John alone, and to his ears it was thesweetest music he had ever heard. 

'I know what you were going to say, ' she said; 'you were going to saythat in that case I ought to like _you_. Well, I do; that is why I amtaking such an interest in your mine, and in your friend Mr. Wentworth. And so my cousin volunteered to go to Canada. Now, I think you ought togo yourself. '

'Why?' said Kenyon, startled that she should have touched the point thathad been discussed between Wentworth and himself. 

'I can only give you a woman's reason--"because I do. " It seems to me youought to be there to know what they report at the time they _do_ report. Perhaps they won't understand the mine without your explanation, and thenyou see an adverse report might come back in perfect good faith. I thinkyou ought to go to America, Mr. Kenyon. '

'That is just what George Wentworth says. '

'Does he? I always thought he was a very sensible young man, and now I amsure of it. Well, I must not stay here gossiping with you on business. Isee the professor is going to finish, and so I shall have to look aftermy other guests. If I don't see you again this evening, or have noopportunity of speaking with you, think over what I have said. '

And then, with the most charming hypocrisy, the young woman thanked theprofessor for the music to which she had not listened in the least. 

'Well, how did you enjoy yourself?' said Wentworth when they had gotoutside again. 

It was a clear, starlight night, and they had resolved to walk hometogether. 

'I enjoyed myself very well indeed, ' answered Kenyon; 'much better than Iexpected. It was a little awkward at first, but I got over that. '

'I noticed you did--with help. '

'Yes, "with help. "'

'If you are inclined to rave, John, now that we are under the stars, remember I am a close confidant, and a sympathetic listener. I should liketo hear you rave, just to learn how an exasperatingly sensible man actsunder the circumstances. '

'I shall not rave about anything, George, but I will tell you something. I am going to Canada. '

'Ah, did she speak about that?'

'She did. '

'And of course her advice at once decides the matter, after my mostcogent arguments have failed?'

'Don't be offended, George, but--_it does_. '

CHAPTER XXXI. 

'What name, please?'

'Tell Mr. Wentworth a lady wishes to see him. '

The boy departed rather dubiously, for he knew this message was decidedlyirregular in a business office. People should give their names. 

'A lady to see you, sir, ' he said to Wentworth; and, then, just as theboy had expected, his employer wanted to know the lady's name. 

Ladies are not frequent visitors at the office of an accountant in theCity, so Wentworth touched his collar and tie to make sure they were intheir correct position, and, wondering who the lady was, asked the boy toshow her in. 

'How do you do, Mr. Wentworth?' she said brightly, advancing towards histable and holding out her hand. 

Wentworth caught his breath, and took her extended hand somewhat limply, then he pulled himself together; saying:

'This is an unexpected pleasure, Miss Brewster. '

Jennie blushed very prettily, and laughed a laugh that Wentworth thoughtwas like a little ripple of music from a mellow flute. 

'It may be unexpected, ' she said, 'but you don't look a bit like aman suffering from an overdose of pure joy. You didn't expect to seeme, did you?'

'I did not; but now that you are here, may I ask in what way I canserve you?'

'Well, in the first place, you may ask me to take a chair, and in thesecond place you may sit down yourself; for I've come to have a long talkwith you. '

The prospect did not seem to be so alluring to Wentworth as one mighthave expected, when the announcement was made by a girl so pretty, anddressed in such exquisite taste; but the young man promptly offered her achair, and then sat down, with the table between them. She placed herparasol and a few things she had been carrying on the table, arrangingthem with some care; then, having given him time to recover from hissurprise, she flashed a look at him that sent a thrill to the finger-tipsof the young man. Yet a danger understood is a danger half overcome; andWentworth, unconsciously drawing a deep breath, nerved himself againstany recurrence of a feeling he had been trying with but indifferentsuccess to forget, saying grimly, but only half convincingly, to himself:

'You are not going to fool me a second time, my girl, lovely as you are. '

A glimmer of a smile hovered about the red lips of the girl, a smilehardly perceptible, but giving an effect to her clear complexion as if asunbeam had crept into the room, and its reflection had lit up her face. 

'I have come to apologize, Mr. Wentworth, ' she said at last. 'I find it avery difficult thing to do, and, as I don't quite know how to begin, Iplunge right into it. '

'You don't need to apologize to me for anything, Miss Brewster, ' repliedWentworth, rather stiffly. 

'Oh yes, I do. Don't make it harder than it is by being too frigidlypolite about it, but say you accept the apology, and that you'resorry--no, I don't mean that--I should say that you're sure I'm sorry, and that you know I won't do it again. '

Wentworth laughed, and Miss Brewster joined him. 

'There, ' she said, 'that's ever so much better. I suppose you've beenthinking hard things of me ever since we last met. '

'I've tried to, ' replied Wentworth. 

'Now, that's what I call honest; besides, I like the implied compliment. I think it's very neat indeed. I'm really very, very sorry that I--thatthings happened as they did. I wouldn't have blamed you if you had usedexceedingly strong language about it at the time. '

'I must confess that I did. '

'Ah!' said Jennie, with a sigh, 'you men have so many comforts denied tous women. But I came here for another purpose; if I had merely wanted toapologize, I think I would have written. I want some information whichyou can give me, if you like. '

The young woman rested her elbows on the table, with her chin in herhands, gazing across at him earnestly and innocently. Poor George feltthat it would be almost impossible to refuse anything to those largebeseeching eyes. 

'I want you to tell me about your mine. '

All the geniality that had gradually come into Wentworth's face andmanner vanished instantly. 

'So this is the old business over again, ' he said. 

'How can you say that!' cried Jennie reproachfully. 'I am asking for myown satisfaction entirely, and not for my paper. Besides, I tell youfrankly what I want to know, and don't try to get it by indirectmeans--by false pretences, as you once said. '

'How can you expect me to give you information that does not belong to mealone? I have no right to speak of a business which concerns otherswithout their permission. '

'Ah, then, there are at least two more concerned in the mine, ' saidJennie gleefully. 'Kenyon is one, I know; who is the other?'

'Miss Brewster, I will tell you nothing. '

'But you have told me something already. Please go on and talk, Mr. Wentworth--about anything you like--and I shall soon find out all I wantto know about the mine. '

She paused, but Wentworth remained silent, which, indeed, the bewilderedyoung man realized was the only safe thing to do. 

'They speak of the talkativeness of women, ' Miss Brewster went on, as ifsoliloquizing, 'but it is nothing to that of the men. Once set a mantalking, and you learn everything he knows--besides ever so much morethat he doesn't. '

Miss Brewster had abandoned her very taking attitude, with its suggestionof confidential relations, and had removed her elbows from the table, sitting now back in her chair, gazing dreamily at the dingy window whichlet the light in from the dingy court. She seemed to have forgotten thatWentworth was there, and said, more to herself than to him:

'I wonder if Kenyon would tell me about the mine. '

'You might ask him. '

'No; it wouldn't do any good, ' she continued, gently shaking her head. 'He's one of your silent men, and there are so few of them in thisworld. Perhaps I had better go to William Longworth himself; he's notsuspicious of me. '

As she said this, she threw a quick glance at Wentworth, and theunfortunate young man's face at once told her that she had hit the mark. She bent her head over the table, and laughed with such evident enjoymentthat Wentworth, in spite of his helpless anger, smiled grimly. 

Jennie raised her head, but the sight of his perplexed countenance wastoo much for her, and it was some time before her merriment allowed herto speak. At last she said:

'Wouldn't you like to take me by the shoulders and put me out of theroom, Mr. Wentworth?'

'I'd like to take you by the shoulders and shake you. '

'Ah! that would be taking a liberty, and could not be permitted. We mustleave punishment to the law, you know, although I do think a man shouldbe allowed to turn an objectionable visitor into the street. '

'Miss Brewster, ' cried the young man earnestly, leaning over the tabletowards her, 'why don't you abandon your horrible inquisitorialprofession, and put your undoubted talents to some other use?'

'What, for instance?'

'Oh, anything. '

Jennie rested her fair cheek against her open palm again, and looked atthe dingy window. There was a long silence between them--Wentworthabsorbed in watching her clear-cut profile and her white throat, hisbreath quickening as he feasted his eyes on her beauty. 

'I have always got angry, ' she said at last, in a low voice with the quiverof a suppressed sigh in it, 'when other people have said that to me--I wonderwhy it is I merely feel hurt and sad when you say it? It is so easy tosay, "Oh, anything"--so easy, so easy. You are a man, with the strengthand determination of a man, yet you have met with disappointments andobstacles that have required all your courage to overcome. Every man has, and with most men it is a fight until the head is gray, and the brainweary with the ceaseless struggle. The world is utterly merciless; itwill trample you down relentlessly if it can, and if your vigilancerelaxes for a moment, it will steal your crust and leave you to starve. Every time I think of this incessant sullen contest, with no quartergiven or taken, I shudder, and pray that I may die before I am at themercy of the pitiless world. When I came to London, I saw, for the firsttime in my life, that hopeless, melancholy promenade of the sandwich-men;human wreckage drifting along the edge of the street, as if cast there bythe rushing tide sweeping past them. They--they seemed to me like atottering procession of the dead; and on their backs was the announcementof a play that was making all London roar with laughter. The awful comedyand tragedy of it! Well, I simply couldn't stand it. I had to run up aside-street and cry like the little fool I was, right in broad daylight. '

Jennie paused and tried to laugh, but the effort ended in a soundsuspiciously like a sob. She dashed her hand with quick impatience acrossher eyes, from which Wentworth had never taken his own, seeing thembecome dim, as if the light from the window proved too strong for them, and finally fill as she ceased to speak. Searching ineffectually abouther dress for a handkerchief, which lay on the table beside her parasolunnoticed by either, Jennie went on with some difficulty:

'Well, these poor forlorn creatures were once men--men who have gonedown--and if the world is so hard on a man with all his strength andresourcefulness, think--think what it is for a woman thrown into thisinhuman turmoil--a woman without friends--without money--flung amongthese relentless wolves--to live if she can--or--to die--if she can. '

The girl's voice broke, and she buried her face in her arms, which restedon the table. 

Wentworth sprang to his feet and came round to where she sat. 

'Jennie, ' he said, putting his hand on her shoulder. The girl, withoutlooking up, shook off the hand that touched her. 

'Go back to your place, ' she cried, in a smothered voice. 'Leave mealone. '

'Jennie, ' persisted Wentworth. 

The young woman rose from her chair and faced him, stepping back a pace. 

'Don't you hear what I say? Go back and sit down. I came here to talkbusiness, not to make a fool of myself. It's all your fault, and I hateyou for it--you and your silly questions. '

But the young man stood where he was, in spite of the dangerous sparklethat shone in his visitor's wet eyes. A frown gathered on his brow. 

'Jennie, ' he said slowly, 'are you playing with me again?'

The swift anger that blazed up in her face, reddening her cheeks, driedthe tears. 

'How _dare_ you say such a thing to me!' she cried hotly. 'Do you flatteryourself that, because I came here to talk business, I have also somepersonal interest in you? Surely even _your_ self-conceit doesn't run sofar as that!'

Wentworth stood silent, and Miss Brewster picked up her parasol, scattering, in her haste, the other articles on the floor. If sheexpected Wentworth to put them on the table again, she was disappointed, for, although his eyes were upon her, his thoughts were far away upon theAtlantic Ocean. 

'I shall not stay here to be insulted, ' she cried resentfully, bringingWentworth's thoughts back with a rush to London again. 'It is intolerablethat you should use such an expression to me. Playing with you indeed!'

'I had no intention of insulting you, Miss Brewster. '

'What is it but an insult to use such a phrase? It implies that I eithercare for you, or----'

'And do you?'

'Do I what?'

'Do you care for me?'

Jennie shook out the lace fringes of her parasol; and smoothed them withsome precision. Her eyes were bent on what she was doing; consequently, they did not meet those of her questioner. 

'I care for you as a friend, of course, ' she said at last, still givingmuch attention to the parasol. 'If I had not looked on you as a friend, Iwould not have come here to consult with you, would I?'

'No, I suppose not. Well, I am sorry I used the words that displeasedyou, and now, if you will permit it, we will go on with theconsultation. '

'It wasn't a pretty thing to say. '

'I'm afraid I'm not good at saying pretty things. '

'You used to be. '

The parasol being arranged to her liking, she glanced up at him. 

'Still, you said you were sorry, and that's all a man can say--or awoman either, for that's what I said myself when I came in. Now, if youwill pick up those things from the floor--thanks--we will talk aboutthe mine. '

Wentworth seated himself again, and said;

'Well, what is it you wish to know about the mine?'

'Nothing at all. '

'But you said you wanted information. '

'What a funny reason to give! And how a man misses all the fine points ofa conversation! No; just because I asked for information, you might haveknown that was not what I really wanted. '

'I'm afraid I'm very stupid. I hate to ask boldly what you did want, butI would like to know. '

'I wanted a vote of confidence. I told you I was sorry because of acertain episode. I wished to see if you trusted me, and I found youdidn't. There!'

'I think that was hardly a fair test. You see, the facts did not belongto me alone. '

Miss Brewster sighed, and slowly shook her head. 

'That wouldn't have made the least difference if you had really trustedme. '

'Oh, I say! You couldn't expect a man to----'

'Yes I could. '

'What, merely a friend?'

Miss Brewster nodded. 

'Well, all I can say, ' remarked Wentworth, with a laugh, 'is thatfriendship has made greater strides in the States than it has inthis country. '

Before Jennie could reply, the useful boy knocked at the door and broughtin a tea-tray, which he placed before his master; then silently departed, closing the door noiselessly. 

'May I offer you a cup of tea?'

'Please. What a curious custom this drinking of tea is in businessoffices! I think I shall write an article on "A Nation of Tea-tipplers. "If I were an enemy of England, instead of being its greatest friend, Iwould descend with my army on this country between the hours of four andfive in the afternoon, and so take the population unawares while it wasdrinking tea. What would you do if the enemy came down on you during sucha sacred national ceremony?'

'I would offer her a cup of tea, ' replied Wentworth, suiting the actionto the phrase. 

'Mr. Wentworth, ' said the girl archly, 'you're improving. That remark wasdistinctly good. Still, you must remember that I come as a friend, not asan enemy. Did you ever read the "Babes in the Wood"? It is a mostinstructive, but pathetic, work of fiction. You remember the wickeduncle, surely? Well, you and Mr. Kenyon remind me of the "Babes, " poorinnocent little things! and London--this part of it--is the dark andpathless forest. I am the bird hovering about you, waiting to cover youwith leaves. The leaves, to do any good, ought to be cheques flutteringdown on you, but, alas! I haven't any. If negotiable cheques only grew ontrees, life would not be so difficult. '

Miss Brewster sipped her tea pensively, and Wentworth listenedcontentedly to the musical murmur of her voice. Such an entrancing effecthad it on him that he paid less heed to what she said than a man oughtwhen a lady is speaking. The tea-drinking had added a touch ofdomesticity to the _tête-a-tête_ which rather went to the head of theyoung man. He clinched and unclinched his hand out of sight under thetable, and felt the moisture on his palm. He hoped he would be able toretain control over himself, but the difficulty of his task almostovercame him when she now and then appealed to him with glance orgesture, and he felt as if he must cry out, 'My girl, my girl, don't dothat, if you expect me to stay where I am. '

'I see you are not paying the slightest attention to what I am saying, 'she said, pushing the cup from her. She rested her arms on the table, leaning slightly forward, and turning her face full upon him: 'I can tellby your eyes that you are thinking of something else. '

'I assure you, ' said George, drawing a deep breath, 'I am listening withintense interest. '

'Well, that's right, for what I am going to say is important. Now, towake you up, I will first tell you all about your mine; you willunderstand thereafter that I did not need to ask anyone for informationregarding it. '

Here, to Wentworth's astonishment, she gave a rapid and accurate sketchof the negotiations and arrangements between the three partners, and thepresent position of affairs. 

'How do you know all this?' he asked. 

'Never mind that; and you mustn't ask how I know what I am now going totell you, but you must believe it implicitly, and act upon it promptly. Longworth is fooling both you and Kenyon. He is marking time, so thatyour option will run out; then he will pay cash for the mine at theoriginal price, and you and Kenyon will be left to pay two-thirds of thedebt incurred. Where is Kenyon?'

'He has gone to America. '

'That's good. Cable him to get the option renewed. You can then try toform the company yourselves in London. If he can't obtain a renewal, youhave very little time to get the cash together, and if you are not ableto do that, then you lose everything. This is what I came to tell you, although I have been a long time about it. Now I must go. '

She rose, gathered her belongings from the table, and stood with theparasol pressed against her. Wentworth came around to where she wasstanding, his face paler than usual, probably because of the news he hadheard. One hand was grasped tightly around one wrist in front of him. Hefelt that he should thank her for what she had done, but his lips weredry, and, somehow, the proper words were not at his command. 

She, holding her fragile lace-fringed parasol against her with one arm, was adjusting her long neatly fitting glove, which she had removed beforetea. A button, one of many, was difficult to fasten, and as sheendeavoured to put it in its place, her sleeve fell away, showing a roundwhite arm above the glove. 

'You see, ' she said, a little breathlessly, her eyes upon her glove, 'itis a very serious situation, and time is of immense importance. '

'I realize that. '

'It would be such a pity to lose everything now, when you have had somuch trouble and worry. '

'It would. '

'And I think that whatever is done should be done quickly. You should actat once and with energy. '

'I am convinced that is so. '

'Of course it is. You are of too trusting a nature; you should be moresuspicious, then you wouldn't be tricked as you have been. '

'No. The trouble is I have been too sceptical, but that is past. I won'tbe again. '

'What are you talking about?' she said, looking quickly up at him. 'Don'tyou know you'll lose the mine if----'

'Hang the mine!' he cried, flinging his wrist free, and clasping her tohim before she could step back or move from her place. 'There issomething more important than mines or money. '

The parasol broke with a sharp snap, and the girl murmured 'Oh!' but themurmur was faint. 

'Never mind the parasol, ' he said, pulling it from between them andtossing it aside; 'I'll get you another. '

'Reckless man!' she gasped; 'you little know how much it cost, and Ithink, you know, I ought to have been consulted--in an--in an--affair ofthis kind--George. '

'There was no time. I acted upon your own advice--promptly. You are notangry, Jennie, my dear girl, are you?'

'I suppose I'm not, though I think I ought to be; especially as I knowonly too well that I held my heart in my hand the whole time, almostoffering it to you. I hope you won't treat it as you have treated thesunshade. '

He kissed her for answer. 

'You see, ' she said, putting his necktie straight, 'I liked you from thevery first, far more than I knew at the time. If you--I'm not trying tojustify myself, you know--but if you had, well, just coaxed me a littleyourself, I would never have sent that cable message. You seemed to giveup everything, and you sent Kenyon to me, and that made me angry. Iexpected you to come back to me, but you never came. '

'I was a stupid fool. I always am when I get a fair chance. '

'Oh no, you're not, but you do need someone to take care of you. '

She suddenly held him at arm's length from her. 

'You don't imagine for a moment, George Wentworth, that I came hereto-day for--for this. '

'Certainly not!' cried the honest young man, with much indignant fervour, drawing her again towards him. 

'Then it's all right. I couldn't bear to have you think such a thing, especially--well, I'll tell you why some day. But I do wish you had atitle. Do they ever ennoble accountants in this country, George?'

'No; they knight only rich fools. '

'Oh, I'm so glad of that; for you'll get rich on the mine, and I'll beLady Wentworth yet. '

Then she drew his head down until her laughing lips touched his. 

CHAPTER XXXII. 

Although the steamship that took Kenyon to America was one of thespeediest in the Atlantic service, yet the voyage was inexpressiblydreary to him. He spent most of his time walking up and down the deck, thinking about the other voyage of a few weeks before. The oneconsolation of his present trip was its quickness. 

When he arrived at his hotel in New York, he asked if there was anymessage there for him, and the clerk handed him an envelope, which hetore open. It was a cable despatch from Wentworth, with the words:

'Longworth at Windsor. Proceed to Ottawa immediately. Get option renewed. Longworth duping us. '

John knitted his brows and wondered where Windsor was. The clerk, seeinghis perplexity, asked if he could be of any assistance. 

'I have received this cablegram, but don't quite understand it. Whereis Windsor?'

'Oh, that means the Windsor Hotel. Just up the street. '

Kenyon registered, told the clerk to assign him a room, and send hisbaggage up to it when it came. Then he walked out from the hotel andsought the Windsor. 

He found that colossal hostelry, and was just inquiring of the clerkwhether a Mr. Longworth was staying there, when that gentleman appearedat the desk, took some letters and his key. 

Kenyon tapped him on the shoulder. 

Young Longworth turned round with more alacrity than he usuallydisplayed, and gave a long whistle of surprise when he saw who it was. 

'In the name of all the gods, ' he cried, 'what are _you_ doing here?'Then, before Kenyon could reply, he said: 'Come up to my room. '

They went to the elevator, rose a few stories, and passed down anapparently endless hall, carpeted with some noiseless stuff that gave noecho of the footfall. Longworth put the key into his door and opened it. They entered a large and pleasant room. 

'Well, ' he said, 'this _is_ a surprise. What is the reason of your beinghere? Anything wrong in London?'

'Nothing wrong, so far as I am aware. We received no cablegram from you, and thought there might be some hitch in the business; therefore I came. '

'Ah, I see. I cabled over to your address, and said I was staying at theWindsor for a few days. I sent a cablegram almost as long as a letter, but it didn't appear to do any good. '

'No, I did not receive it. '

'And what did you expect was wrong over here?'

'That I did not know. I knew you had time to get to Ottawa and see themine in twelve days from London. Not hearing from you in that time, andknowing the option was running out, both Wentworth and I became anxious, and so I came over. '

'Exactly. Well, I'm afraid you've had your trip for nothing. '

'What do you mean? Is not the mine all I said it was?'

'Oh, the mine is all right; all I meant was, there was really nonecessity for your coming. '

'But, you know, the option ends in a very short time. '

'Well, the option, like the mine, is all right. I think you might quitesafely have left it in my hands. '

It must be admitted that John Kenyon began to feel he had acted withunreasonable rashness in taking his long voyage. 

'Is Mr. Melville here with you?'

'Melville has returned home. He had not time to stay longer. All hewanted was to satisfy himself about the mine. He was satisfied, and hehas gone home. If you were in London now, you would be able to see him. '

'Did you meet Mr. Von Brent?'

'Yes, he took us to the mine. '

'And did you say anything about the option to him?'

'Well, we had some conversation about it. There will be no trouble aboutthe option. What Von Brent wants is to sell his mine, that is all. 'There was a few moments' silence, then Longworth said: 'When are yougoing back?'

'I do not know. I think I ought to see Von Brent. I am not at all easyabout leaving matters as they are. I think I ought to get a renewal ofthe option. It is not wise to risk things as we are doing. Von Brentmight at any time get an offer for his mine, just as we are forming ourcompany, and, of course, if the option had not been renewed, he wouldsell to the first man who put down the money. As you say, all he wants isto sell his mine. '

Longworth was busy opening his letters, and apparently paying very littleattention to what Kenyon said. At last, however, he spoke:

'If I were you--if you care to take my advice--I would go straight backto England. You will do no good here. I merely say this to save you anyfurther trouble, time, and expense. '

'Don't you think it would be as well to get a renewal of the option?'

'Oh, certainly; but, as I told you before, it was not at all necessaryfor you to come over. I may say, furthermore, that Von Brent will notrenew the option without a handsome sum down, to be forfeited if thecompany is not formed. Have you the money to pay him?'

'No, I have not. '

'Very well, then, why waste time and money going to Ottawa?' Young Mr. Longworth arched his eye-brows and gazed at John through his eyeglass. 'Iwill let you have my third of the money, if that will do any good. '

'How much money does Von Brent want?'

'How should I know? To tell you the truth, Mr. Kenyon--and truth neverhurts, or oughtn't to--I don't at all like this visit to America. You andMr. Wentworth have been good enough to be suspicious about me from thevery first. You have not taken any pains to conceal it, either of you. Your appearance in America at this particular juncture is nothing morenor less than an insult to me. I intend to receive it as such. '

'I have no intention of insulting you, ' said Kenyon, 'if you are dealingfairly with me. '

'There it is again. That remark is an insult. Everything you say is areflection upon me. I wish to have nothing more to say to you. I give youmy advice that it is better for you, and cheaper, to go back to London. You need not act on it unless you like. I have nothing further to say toyou and so this interview may be considered closed. '

'And how about the mine?'

'I imagine the mine will take care of itself. '

'Do you think this is courteous treatment of a business partner?'

'My dear sir, I do not take my lessons in courtesy from you. Whether youare pleased or displeased with my treatment of you is a matter of supremeindifference to me. I am tired of living in an atmosphere of suspicion, and I have done with it--that is all. You think some game is being playedon you--both you and Mr. Wentworth think that--and yet you haven't the"cuteness, " as they call it here, or sharpness, to find it out. Now, aman who has suspicions he cannot prove to be well founded should keepthose suspicions to himself until he can prove them. That is my adviceto you. I wish you a good-day. '

John Kenyon walked back to his hotel with more misgivings than ever. Hewrote a letter to Wentworth detailing the conversation, telling himMelville had sailed for home, and advising him to see that gentleman whenhe arrived. He stayed in New York that night, and took the morning trainto Montreal. In due time he arrived at Ottawa, and called on Von Brent. He found that gentleman in his chambers, looking as if he had never leftthe room since the option was signed. Von Brent at first did notrecognise his visitor, but after gazing a moment at him he sprang fromhis chair and held out his hand. 

'I really did not know you, ' he said; 'you have changed a great dealsince I saw you last. You look haggard, and not at all well. What is thematter with you?'

'I do not think anything is the matter. I am in very good health, thankyou; I have had a few business worries, that is all. '

'Ah, yes, ' said Von Brent; 'I am very sorry indeed you failed to formyour company. '

'Failed!' echoed Kenyon. 

'Yes; you haven't succeeded, have you?'

'Well, I don't know about that; we are in a fair way to succeed. You metLongworth and Melville, who came out to see the mine? I saw Longworth inNew York, and he told me you had taken them out there. '

'Are they interested with you in the mine?'

'Certainly; they are helping me to form the company. '

Von Brent seemed amazed. 

'I did not understand that at all. In fact, I understood the exactopposite. I thought you had attempted to form a company, and failed. Theyshowed me an attack in one of the financial papers upon you, and saidthat killed your chances of forming a company in London. They were here, apparently, on their own business. '

'And what was their business?'

'To buy the mine. '

'Have they bought it?'

'Practically, yes. Of course, while your option holds good I cannot sellit, but that, as you know, expires in a very few days. '

Kenyon, finding his worst suspicions confirmed, seemed speechless withamazement, and in his agony mopped from his brow the drops collectedthere. 

'You appear to be astonished at this, ' said Von Brent. 

'I am very much astonished. '

'Well, you cannot blame me. I have acted perfectly square in the matter. I had no idea Longworth, and the gentleman who was with him, had anyconnection with you whatever. Their attention had been drawn to the mine, they said, by that article. They had investigated it and appeared to besatisfied there was something in it--in the mine, I mean, not in thearticle. They said they had attended a meeting which you had called, butit was quite evident you were not going to be able to form the company. So they came here and made me a cash offer for the mine. They havedeposited twenty thousand pounds at the bank here, and on the day youroption closes they will give me a cheque for the amount. '

'It serves me right, ' said Kenyon. 'I have been cheated and duped. I hadgrave suspicions of it all along, but I did not act upon them. I havebeen too timorous and cowardly. This man Longworth has made a pretence ofhelping me to form a company. Everything he has done has been to delayme. He came out here, apparently, in the interests of the company I wasforming, and now he has got the option for himself. '

'Yes, he has, ' said Von Brent. 'I may say I am very sorry indeed for theturn affairs have taken. Of course, as I have told you, I had no idea howthe land lay. You see, you had placed no deposit with me, and I had tolook after my own interests. However, the option is open for a few daysmore, and I will not turn the mine over to them till the last minute ofthe time has expired. Isn't there any chance of your getting the moneybefore then?'

'Not the slightest. '

'Well, you see, in that case I cannot help myself. I am bound by a legaldocument to turn the mine over to them on receipt of the twenty thousandpounds the moment your option is ended. Everything is done legally, and Iam perfectly helpless in the matter. '

'Yes, I see that, ' said John. 'Good-bye. '

He went to the telegraph-office and sent a cablegram. 

Wentworth received the message in London the next morning. It read:

'We are cheated. Longworth has the option on the mine in his own name. '

CHAPTER XXXIII. 

When George Wentworth received this message, he read it several timesover before its full meaning dawned upon him. Then he paced up and downhis room, and gave way to his feelings. His best friends, who had beenprivileged to hear George's vocabulary when he was rather angry, admittedthat the young man had a fluency of expression which was very more tersethan proper. When the real significance of the despatch became apparentto him, George outdid himself in this particular line. Then he realizedthat, however consolatory such language is to a very angry man, it doeslittle good in any practical way. He paced silently up and down the room, wondering what he could do, and the more he wondered the less light hesaw through the fog. He put on his hat and went into the other room. 

'Henry, ' he said to his partner, 'do you know anybody who would lend metwenty thousand pounds?'

Henry laughed. The idea of anybody lending that sum of money, except onthe very best security, was in itself extremely comic. 

'Do you want it to-day?' he said. 

'Yes, I want it to-day. '

'Well, I don't know any better plan than to go out into the street andask every man you meet if he has that sum about him. You are certain toencounter men who have very much more than twenty thousand pounds, andperhaps one of them, struck by your very sane appearance at the moment, might hand over the sum to you. I think, however, George, that you wouldbe more successful if you met the capitalist in a secluded lane somedark night, and had a good reliable club in your hand. '

'You are right, ' said George. 'Of course, there is just as muchpossibility of my reaching the moon as getting that sum of money onshort notice. '

'Yes, or on long notice either, I imagine. I know plenty of men who havethe money, but I wouldn't undertake to ask them for it, and I don'tbelieve you would. Still there is nothing like trying. He who tries maysucceed, but no one can succeed who doesn't try. Why not go to oldLongworth? He could let you have the money in a moment if he wanted to doso. He knows you. What's your security? What are you going to do withit--that eternal mine of yours?'

'Yes, that "eternal mine"; I want it to _be_ mine. That is why I need thetwenty thousand pounds. '

'Well, George, I don't see much hope for you. You never spoke to oldLongworth about it, did you? He wasn't one of the men you intended to getinto this company?'

'No, he was not. I wish he had been. He would have treated us better thanhis rascally nephew has done. '

'Ah, that immaculate young man has been playing you tricks, has he?'

'He has played me one trick, which is enough. '

'Well, why don't you go and see the old man, and lay the case before him?He treats that nephew as if he were his son. Now, a man will do a greatdeal for his son, and perhaps old Longworth might do something forhis nephew. '

'Yes; but I should have to explain to him that his nephew is ascoundrel. '

'Very well; that is just the kind of explanation to bring the twentythousand pounds. If his nephew really is a scoundrel, and you can proveit, you could not want a better lever than that on the old man'smoney-bags. '

'By Jove!' said Wentworth, 'I believe I shall try it. I want to let himknow, anyhow, what sort of man his nephew is. I'll go and see him. '

'I would, ' said the other, turning to his work. 

And so George Wentworth, putting the cablegram in his pocket, went to seeold Mr. Longworth in a frame of mind in which no man should see hisfellow-man. He did not wait to be announced, but walked, to theastonishment of the clerk, straight through into Mr. Longworth's room. Hefound the old man seated at his desk. 

'Good-day, Mr. Wentworth, ' said the financier cordially. 

'Good-day, ' replied George curtly. 'I have come to read a cable despatchto you, or to let you read it. '

He threw the paper down before the old gentleman, who adjusted hisspectacles and read it. Then he looked up inquiringly at Wentworth. 

'You don't understand it, do you?' said the latter. 

'I confess I do not. The Longworth in this telegram does not refer tome, does it?'

'No, it does not refer to you, but it refers to one of your house. Yournephew, William Longworth, is a scoundrel!'

'Ah!' said the old man, placing the despatch on the desk again, andremoving his glasses, 'have you come to tell me that?'

'Yes, I have. Did you know it before?'

'No, I did not, ' answered the old gentleman, his colour rising; 'and Ido not know it now. I know you say so, and I think very likely you willbe glad to take back what you have said. I will at least give you theopportunity. '

'So far from taking it back, Mr. Longworth, I shall prove it. Your nephewformed a partnership with my friend Kenyon and myself to float on theLondon market a certain Canadian mine. '

'My dear sir, ' broke in the old gentleman, 'I have no desire to hear ofmy nephew's private speculations; I have nothing to do with them. I havenothing to do with your mine. The matter is of no interest whatever tome, and I must decline to hear anything about it. You are, also, if youwill excuse my saying so, not in a fit state of temper to talk to anygentleman. If you like to come back here when you are calmer, I shall bevery pleased to listen to what you have to say. '

'I shall never be calmer on this subject. I have told you that yournephew is a scoundrel. You are pleased to deny the accusation. '

'I do not deny it; I merely said I did not know it was the case, and I donot believe it, that is all. '

'Very well; the moment I begin to show you proof that things are asI say----'

'My dear sir, ' cried the elder man, with some heat, 'you are not showingproof. You are merely making assertions, and assertions about a man whois absent--who is not here to defend himself. If you have anything to sayagainst William Longworth, come and say it when he is here, and he shallanswer for himself. It is cowardly of you, and ungenerous to me, to makea number of accusations which I am in no wise able to refute. '

'Will you listen to what I have to say?'

'No; I will not. '

'Then, by God, you shall!' and with that Wentworth strode to the door andturned the key, while the old man rose from his seat and faced him. 

'Do you mean to threaten me, sir, in my own office?'

'I mean to say, Mr. Longworth, that I have made a statement which I amgoing to prove to you. I mean that you shall listen to me, and listen tome _now_!'

'And I say, if you have anything to charge against my nephew, come andsay it when he is here. '

'When he is here, Mr. Longworth, it will be too late to say it; atpresent you can repair the injury he has done. When he returns to Englandyou cannot do so, no matter how much you might wish to make the attempt. '

The old man stood irresolute for a moment, then he sat down in his chairagain. 

'Very well, ' he said, with a sigh; 'I am not so combative as I once was. Go on with your story. '

'My story is very short, ' said Wentworth; 'it simply amounts to this:You know your nephew formed a partnership with us in relation to theCanadian mine?'

'I know nothing about it, I tell you, ' answered Mr. Longworth. 

'Very well, you know it now. '

'I know you say so. '

'Do you doubt my word?'

'I shall tell you more definitely when I hear what you have to say. Goon. '

'Well, your nephew, pretending to aid us in forming this company, dideverything to retard our progress. He engaged offices that took a longtime to fit up, and which we had at last to take in hand ourselves. Thenhe left for a week, leaving us no address, and refusing to answer theletters I sent to his office for him. On one pretext or another, theforming of the company was delayed; until at length, when the option bywhich Mr. Kenyon held the mine had less than a month to run, your nephewwent to America in company with Mr. Melville, ostensibly to see andreport upon the property. After waiting a certain length of time andhearing nothing from him (he had promised to cable us), Kenyon went toAmerica to get a renewal of the option. This cablegram explains hissuccess. He finds, on going there, that your nephew has secured theoption of the mine in his own name, and, as Kenyon says, we are cheated. Now have you any doubt whether your nephew is a scoundrel or not?'

Mr. Longworth mused for a few moments on what the young man had told him. 

'If what you say is exactly true, there is no doubt William has beenguilty of a piece of very sharp practice. '

'Sharp practice!' cried the other. 'You might as well call robbery sharppractice!'

'My dear sir, I have listened to you; now I ask you to listen to me. If, as I say, what you have stated is true, my nephew has done somethingwhich I think an honourable man would not do; but as to that I cannotjudge until I hear his side of the story. It may put a differentcomplexion on the matter, and I have no doubt it will; but even grantingyour version is true in every particular, what have I to do with it? Iam not responsible for my nephew's actions. He has entered into abusiness connection, it seems, with two young men, and has outwittedthem. That is probably what the world would say about it. Perhaps, asyou say, he has been guilty of something worse, and has cheated hispartners. But even admitting everything to be true, I do not see how Iam responsible in any way. '

'Legally, you are not; morally, I think you are. '

'Why?'

'If he were your son----'

'But he is not my son; he is my nephew. '

'If your son had committed a theft, would you not do everything in yourpower to counteract the evil he had done?'

'I might, and I might not. Some fathers pay their sons' debts, others donot. I cannot say what action I should take in a purely imaginary case. '

'Very well; all I have to say is, our option runs out in two or threedays. Twenty thousand pounds will secure the mine for us. I want thattwenty thousand pounds before the option ceases. '

'And do you expect me to pay you twenty thousand pounds for this?'

'Yes, I do. '

Old Mr. Longworth leaned back in his office chair, and looked at theyoung man in amazement. 

'To think that you, a man of the City, should come to me, another man ofthe City, with such an absurd idea in your head, is simply grotesque. '

'Then the name of the Longworths is nothing to you--the good name, Imean?'

'The good name of the Longworths, my dear sir, is everything to me; butI fancy it will be able to take care of itself without any assistancefrom you. '

There was silence for a few moments. Then Wentworth said, in a voice ofsuppressed anguish:

'I thought, Mr. Longworth, one of your family was a scoundrel; I now wishto say I believe the epithet covers uncle as well as nephew. You have hada chance to repair the mischief a member of your family has done. Youhave answered me with contempt. You have not shown the slightestindication of wishing to make amends. '

He unlocked the door. 

'Come, now, ' said old Mr. Longworth, rising, 'that will do, that will do, Mr. Wentworth. ' Then he pressed an electric bell, and, when the clerkappeared, he said: 'Show this gentleman the door, please, and if ever hecalls here again, do not admit him. '

And so George Wentworth, clenching his hands with rage, was shown to thedoor. He had the rest of the day to ponder on the fact that an angry manseldom accomplishes his purpose. 

CHAPTER XXXIV. 

The stormy interview with Wentworth disturbed the usual serenity of Mr. Longworth's temper. He went home earlier than was customary with himthat night, and the more he thought over the attack, the moreunjustifiable it seemed. He wondered what his nephew had really done, and tried to remember what Wentworth had charged against him. He couldnot recollect, the angrier portions of the interview having, as it were, blotted the charges from his mind. There remained, however, a verybitter resentment against Wentworth. Mr. Longworth searched hisconscience to see if he could be in the least to blame, but he foundnothing in the recollections of his dealings with the young men tojustify him in feeling at all responsible for the disaster that hadovertaken them. He read his favourite evening paper with less than hisusual interest, for every now and then the episode in his office wouldoccur to him. Finally he said sharply:

'Edith!'

'Yes, father, ' answered his daughter. 

'You remember a person named Wentworth, whom you had here the eveningWilliam went away?'

'Yes, father. '

'Very well. Never invite him to this house again. '

'What has he been doing?' asked the young woman in rather a tremulousvoice. 

'I desire you also never to ask anyone connected with him--that manKenyon, for instance, ' continued her father, ignoring her question. 

'I thought, ' she answered, 'that Mr. Kenyon was not in this country atpresent. '

'He is not, but he will be back again, I suppose. At any rate, I wish tohave nothing more to do with those people. You understand that?'

'Yes, father. '

Mr. Longworth went on with his reading. Edith saw her father was greatlydisturbed, and eagerly desired to know the reason, but knew enough ofhuman nature to understand that in a short time he would relieve heranxiety. He again appeared to be trying to fix his attention on thepaper. At length he threw it down, and turned towards her. 

'That man, Wentworth, ' he said bitterly, 'behaved to-day in a mostunjustifiable manner to me in my own office. It seems that William and heand Kenyon embarked in some mine project. I knew nothing of their doings, and was not even consulted with regard to them. Now it appears Williamhas gone to America and done something Wentworth considers wrong. Wentworth came to me and demanded twenty thousand pounds--the mostpreposterous thing ever heard of--said I owed it to clear the good nameof Longworth. As if the good name were dependent on him, or anyone likehim! I turned him out of the office. '

Edith did not answer for a few moments, while her father gaveexpression to his indignation by various ejaculations that need not behere recorded. 

'Did he say, ' she spoke at length, 'in what way William had done wrong?'

'I do not remember now just what he said. I know I told him to come againwhen my nephew was present, and then make his charges against him if hewanted to do so. Not that I admitted I had anything to do with the matterat all, but I simply refused to listen to charges against an absent man. I paid no attention to them. '

'That certainly was reasonable, ' replied Edith. 'What did he say to it?'

'Oh, he abused me, and abused William, and went on at a dreadful rate, until I was obliged to order him out of the office. '

'But what did he say about meeting William when he returned, and makingthe charges against him then?'

'What did he say? I don't remember. Oh yes! he said it would be too latethen; that they had only a few days to do what business they have to do, and that is why he made the demand for twenty thousand pounds. It was torepair the harm, whatever the harm was, William had done. I look on itsimply as some blackmailing scheme of his, and I am astonished that a manbelonging to so good a house as he does should try that game with me. Ishall speak to the elder partner about it to-morrow, and if he does notmake the young man apologize in the most abject manner he will be theloser by it, I can tell him that. '

'I would think no more about it, father, if I were you. Do not let ittrouble you in the least. '

'Oh, it doesn't trouble me, but young men nowadays seem to think they cansay anything to their elders. '

'I mean, ' she continued, 'that I would not go to his partner for a day ortwo. Wait and see what happens. I have no doubt, when he considers thematter, he will be thoroughly ashamed of himself. '

'Well, I hope so. '

'Then give him the chance of being ashamed of himself, and take nofurther steps in the meantime. '

Edith shortly afterwards went to her own room; there, clasping her handsbehind her, she walked up and down thinking, with a very troubled heart, of what she had heard. Her view of the occurrence was very different fromthat taken by her father. She felt certain something dishonourable hadbeen done by her cousin. For a long time she had mistrusted his supposedfriendship for the two young men, and now she pictured to herself JohnKenyon in the wilds of Canada, helpless and despondent because of thegreat wrong that had been done him. It was far into the night when sheretired, and it was early next morning when she arose. Her father wasbright and cheerful at breakfast, and had evidently forgotten all aboutthe unpleasant incident of the day before. A good night's sleep haderased it from his memory. Edith was glad of this, and she did notmention the subject. After he had gone to the City, his daughter preparedto follow him. She did not take her carriage, but hailed a hansom, andgave the driver the number of Wentworth's offices. That young man wasevidently somewhat surprised to see her. He had been trying to write toKenyon an account of his interview with old Mr. Longworth; but after hehad finished, he thought John Kenyon would not approve of his zeal, sohad just torn the letter up. 

'Take this chair, ' he said, wheeling an armchair into position. 'It isthe only comfortable one we have in the room. '

'Comfort does not matter, ' said Miss Longworth. 'I came to see you aboutthe mica-mine. What has my cousin done?'

'How do you know he has done anything?'

'That does not matter. I know. Tell me as quickly as you can what hehas done. '

'It is not a very pleasant story to tell, ' he said, 'to a young ladyabout one of her relatives. '

'Never mind that. Tell me. '

'Very well, he has done this: He has pretended he was our friend, andprofessed to aid us in forming this company. He has delayed us by everymeans in his power until the option has nearly expired. Then he has goneto Canada and secured for himself, and a man named Melville, the optionof the mine when John Kenyon's time is up--that is to say, at twelveo'clock to-morrow, when Kenyon's option expires, your cousin will pay themoney and own the mine; after which, of course, Kenyon and myself will beout of it. I don't mind the loss at all--I would gladly give Kenyon myshare--but for John it is a terrible blow. He had counted on the money topay debts which he considers he owes to his father for his education. Hecalls them debts of honour, though they are not debts of honour in theordinary sense of the words. Therefore, it seemed to me a terrible thingthat--' Here he paused and did not go on. He saw there were tears in theeyes of the girl to whom he was talking. 'It is brutal, ' he said, 'totell you all this. You are not to blame for it and neither is yourfather, although I spoke to him in a heated manner yesterday. '

'When did you say the option expires?'

'At twelve o'clock to-morrow. '

'How much money is required to buy the mine?'

'Twenty thousand pounds. '

'Can money be sent to Canada by cable?'

'Yes, I think so. '

'Aren't you quite sure?'

'No, I am not. It can be sent by telegraph in this country, and inAmerica. '

'How long will it take you to find out?'

'Only a few moments. '

'Very well. Where is Mr. Kenyon now?'

'Kenyon is in Ottawa. I had a cablegram from him yesterday. '

'Then, will you write a cablegram that can be sent away at once, askinghim to wait at the telegraph-office until he receives a further messagefrom you?'

'Yes, I can do that; but what good will it do?'

'Never mind that; perhaps it will do no good. I am going to try to makeit worth doing. Meanwhile remember, if I succeed, John Kenyon must neverknow the particulars of this transaction. '

'He never will--if you say so. '

'I say so. Now, there is six hours' difference of time between thiscountry and Canada, is there not?'

'About that, I think. '

'Very well; lose no time in getting the cable-message sent to him, andtell him to answer, so that we shall be sure he is at the other end ofthe wire. Then find out about the cabling of the money. I shall be backhere, I think, as soon as you are. '

With that she left the office, and, getting into her cab, was driven toher father's place of business. 

'Well, my girl, ' said the old man, pushing his spectacles up on his brow, and gazing at her, 'what is it now--some new extravagance?'

'Yes, father, some new extravagance. '

His daughter was evidently excited, and her breath came quickly. Sheclosed the door, and took a chair opposite her father. 

'Father, ' she said, 'I have been your business man, as you call me, for along time. '

'Yes, you have. Are you going to strike for an increase of salary?'

'Father, ' she said earnestly, not heeding the jocularity of his tone, 'this is very serious. I want you to give me some money for myself--tospeculate with. '

'I will do that very gladly. How much do you want?'

The old man turned his chair round and pulled out his cheque-book. 

'I want thirty thousand pounds, ' she answered. 

Mr. Longworth wheeled quickly round in his chair and looked at her inastonishment. 

'Thirty thousand what?'

'Thirty thousand pounds, father; and I want it now. '

'My dear girl, ' he expostulated, 'have you any idea how much thirtythousand pounds is? Do you know that thirty thousand pounds is afortune?'

'Yes, I know that. '

'Do you know that there is not one in twenty of the richest merchants inLondon who could at a moment's notice produce thirty thousand pounds inready money?'

'Yes, I suppose that is true. Have you not the ready money?'

'Yes, I have the money. I can draw a cheque for that amount, and it willbe honoured at once; but I cannot give you so much money without knowingwhat you are going to do with it. '

'And suppose, father, you do not approve of what I am going to do withit?'

'All the more reason, my dear, that I should know. '

'Then, father, I suppose you mean that whatever services I have renderedyou, whatever comfort I have given you, what I have been to you all mylife, is not worth thirty thousand pounds?'

'You shouldn't talk like that, my daughter. Everything I have isyours, or will be, when I die. It is for you I work; it is for you Iaccumulate money. You will have everything I own the moment I have tolay down my work. '

'Father!' cried the girl, standing up before him, 'I do not want yourmoney when you die. I do not want you to die, as you know; but I do wantthirty thousand pounds to-day, and now. I want it more than I everwanted anything else before in my life, or ever shall again. Will yougive it to me?'

'No, I will not, unless you tell me what you are going to do with it. '

'Then, father, you can leave your money to your nephew when you die; Ishall never touch a penny of it. I now bid you good-bye. I will go outfrom this room and earn my own living. '

With that the young woman turned to go, but her father, with asprightliness one would not have expected from his years, sprang to thedoor and looked at her with alarm. 

'Edith, my child, you never talked to me like this before in your life. What is wrong with you?'

'Nothing, father, except that I want a cheque for thirty thousand pounds, and want it now. '

'And do you mean to say that you will leave me if I do not give it toyou?'

'Have you ever broken your word, father?'

'Never, my child, that I know of. '

'Then remember I am your daughter. I have said, if I do not get thatmoney now, I shall never enter our house again. '

'But thirty thousand pounds is a tremendous amount. Remember, I havegiven _my_ word, too, that I would not give you the money unless you toldme what it was for. '

'Very well, father, I will tell what it is for when you ask me. I wouldadvise you, though, not to ask me; and I would advise you to give me themoney. It will all be returned to you if you want it. 

'Oh, I don't care about the money at all, Edith. I merely, of course, don't want to see it wasted. '

'And, father, have you no trust in my judgment?'

'Well, you know I haven't much faith in any woman's wisdom, in the matterof investing money. '

'Trust me this time, father. I shall never ask you for any more. '

The old man went slowly to his desk, wrote out a cheque, and handed it tohis daughter. It was for thirty thousand pounds. 

CHAPTER XXXV. 

Edith Longworth, with that precious bit of paper in her pocket, once moregot into her hansom and drove to Wentworth's office. Again she took theonly easy-chair in the room. Her face was very serious, and Wentworth, the moment he saw it, said to himself. 'She has failed. '

'Have you telegraphed to Mr. Kenyon?' she asked. 

'Yes. '

'Are you sure you made it clear to him what was wanted? Cablegrams areapt to be rather brief. '

'I told him to keep in communication with us. Here is a copy of thecablegram. '

Miss Longworth read it approvingly, but said:

'You have not put in the word "answer. "'

'No; but I put it in the despatch I sent. I remember that now. '

'Have you had a reply yet?'

'Oh no; you see, it takes a long time to get there, because there are somany changes from the end of the cable to the office where Kenyon is. Andthen, again, you see, they may have to look for him. He may not beexpecting a message; in fact, he is sure not to be expecting any. Fromhis own cablegram to me, it is quite evident he has given up all hope. '

'Show me that cablegram, please. '

Wentworth hesitated. 

'It is hardly couched in language you will enjoy reading, ' he said. 

'That doesn't matter. Show it to me. I must see all the documents inthe case. '

He handed her the paper, which she read in silence, and gave it back tohim without a word. 

'I knew you wouldn't like it, ' he said. 

'I have not said I do not like it. It is not a bit too strong under thecircumstances. In fact, I do not see how he could have put it in otherwords. It is very concise and to the point. '

'Yes; there is no doubt about that, especially the first three words, "Weare cheated!" Those are the words that make me think Kenyon has given upall hope; so there may be some trouble in finding him. '

'Did you learn whether money could be sent by cable or not?'

'Oh yes; there is no difficulty about that. The money is deposited in abank here, and will be credited to Kenyon in the bank at Ottawa. '

'Very well, then, ' said Miss Longworth, handing him the piece of paper, 'there is the money. '

Wentworth gave a long whistle as he looked at it. 'Excuse my rudeness, 'he said; 'I don't see a bit of paper like this every day. You mean, then, to buy the mine?'

'Yes, I mean to buy the mine. '

'Very well; but there is ten thousand pounds more here than isnecessary. '

'Yes. I mean not only to buy the mine, but to work it; and so someworking capital will be necessary. How much do you suppose. '

'About that I have no idea, ' said Wentworth. 'I should think fivethousand pounds would be ample. '

'Then, we shall leave five thousand pounds in the bank here forcontingencies, and cable twenty-five thousand pounds to Mr. Kenyon. Ishall expect him to get me a good man to manage the mine. I am sure hewill be glad to do that. '

'Most certainly he will. John Kenyon, now that the mine has not falleninto the hands of those who tried to cheat him, will be glad to doanything for the new owner of it. He won't mind, in the least, losing hismoney if he knows that you have the mine. '

'Ah, but that is the one thing he must not know. As to losing the money, neither you nor Mr. Kenyon are to lose a penny. If the mine is all youthink it is, then it will be an exceedingly profitable investment; and Iintend that we shall each take our third, just as if you had contributedone-third of the money, and Mr. Kenyon another. '

'But, my dear Miss Longworth, that is absurd. We could never accept anysuch terms. '

'Oh yes, you can. I spoke to John Kenyon himself about being a partnerin this mine. I am afraid he thought very little of the offer at thetime. I don't intend him to know anything at all about my ownership now. He has discovered the mine--you and he together. If it is valueless, then you and he will be two of the sufferers; if it is all you think itis, then you will be the gainers. The labourer is worthy of his hire, and I am sure both you and Mr. Kenyon have laboured hard enough in thisventure. Should he guess I bought it, the chances are that he will bestupidly and stubbornly conscientious, and decline to share the fruitsof his labours. '

'And do you think, Miss Longworth, I am not conscientious enoughto refuse?'

'Oh, yes; you are conscientious, but you are sensible. Mr. Kenyon isn't. '

'I think you are mistaken about that. He is one of the most sensible menin the world--morbidly sensible, perhaps. '

'Well, I think, if Mr. Kenyon knew I owned the mine, he would not take apenny as his share. So I trust you will never let him know I am theperson who gave the money to buy the mine. '

'But is he never to know it, Miss Longworth?'

'Perhaps not. If he is to learn, I am the person to tell him. '

'I quite agree with you there, and I shall respect your confidence. '

'Now, what time, ' said the young woman, looking at her watch, 'ought weto get an answer from Mr. Kenyon?'

'Ah, that, as I said before, no one can tell. '

'I suppose, then, the best plan is to send the money at once, or put itin the way of being sent, to some bank in Ottawa. '

'Yes, that is the best thing to do; although, of course, if John Kenyonis not there----'

'If he is not there what shall we do?'

'I do not exactly know. I could cable to Mr. Von Brent. Von Brent is theowner of the mine, and the man who gave John the option. I do not knowhow far he is committed to the others. If he is as honest as I take himto be, he will accept the money, providing it is sent in before twelveo'clock, and then we shall have the mine. Of that I know nothingwhatever, because I have no particulars except John's cable-message. '

'Then, I can do no more just now?'

'Yes, you can. You will have to write a cheque for the twenty-fivethousand pounds. You see, this cheque is crossed, and will go intoyour banking account. An other cheque will have to be drawn to get themoney out. '

'Ah, I see. I have not my cheque-book here, but perhaps you can send thischeque to the bank, and I will return. There will be time enough, Isuppose, before the closing hour of the bank?'

'Yes, there will be plenty of time. Of course, the sooner we get themoney away the better. '

'I shall return shortly after lunch. Perhaps you will then have heardfrom Mr. Kenyon. If anything comes sooner, will you send me a telegram?Here is my address. '

'I will do that, ' said Wentworth, as he bade her good-bye. 

As soon as lunch was over, Miss Longworth, with her cheque-book, againvisited Wentworth's office. When she entered he shook his head. 

'No news yet, ' he said. 

'This is terrible, ' she answered; 'suppose he has left Ottawa and startedfor home?'

'I do not think he would do that. Still, I imagine he would think therewas no reason for staying in Ottawa. Nevertheless, I know Kenyon wellenough to believe that he will wait there till the last minute of theoption has expired, in the hope that something may happen. He knows, ofcourse, that I shall be doing everything I can in London, and he may havea faint expectation that I shall be able to accomplish something. '

'It would be useless to cable again?'

'Quite. If that message does not reach him, none will. '

As he was speaking, a boy entered the room with a telegram in his hand. Its contents were short and to the point:

'Cablegram received. 

'KENYON. '

'Well, that's all right, ' said Wentworth; 'now I shall cable that we havethe money, and advise him to identify himself at the bank, so that therecan be no formalities about the drawing of it, to detain him. '

Saying this, Wentworth pulled the telegraph-forms towards him, and, afterconsiderable labour, managed to concoct a satisfactory despatch. 

'Don't spare money on it, ' urged his visitor; 'be sure and make itplain to him. '

'I think that will do, don't you?'

'Yes, ' she answered, after reading the despatch; 'that will do. '

'Now, ' she said, 'here is the cheque. Shall I wait here while you do allthat is necessary to cable the money, or had I better go, and returnagain to see if everything is all right?'

'If you don't mind, just sit where you are. You may lock this door, ifyou like, and you will not be disturbed. '

It was an hour before Wentworth returned, but his face was radiant. 

'We have done everything we can, ' he said, 'the money is at his orderthere, if the cablegram gets over before twelve o'clock to-morrow, as ofcourse it will. '

'Very well, then, good-bye, ' said the girl with a smile, holding out herhand. 

CHAPTER XXXVI. 

If any man more miserable and dejected than John Kenyon existed in thebroad dominion of Canada, he was indeed a person to be pitied. Afterhaving sent his cablegram to Wentworth, he returned to his very cheerlesshotel. Next morning when he awoke he knew that Wentworth would havereceived the message, but that the chances were ten thousand to one thathe could not get the money in time, even if he could get it at all. Still, he resolved to stay in Ottawa, much as he detested the place, until the hour the option expired. Then, he thought, he would look roundamong the mines, and see if he could not get something to do in themanagement of one of them. This would enable him to make some money, wherewith to pay the debts which he and Wentworth would have incurred asa result of their disastrous speculation. He felt so depressed that hedid what most other Englishmen would have done in his place--took a longwalk. He stood on the bridge over the Ottawa River and gazed for a whileat the Chaudière Falls, watching the mist rising from the chasm intowhich the waters plunged. Then he walked along the other side of theriver, among big saw-mills and huge interminable piles of lumber, withtheir grateful piny smell. By-and-by he found himself in the country, andthen the forest closed in upon the bad road on which he walked. Nevertheless, he kept on and on, without heeding where he was going. Hereand there he saw clearings in the woods, and a log shanty, or perhaps abarn. The result of all this was that, being a healthy man, he soondeveloped an enormous appetite, which forced itself upon his attention inspite of his depression. He noticed the evening was closing around him, and so was glad to come to a farmhouse that looked better than theordinary shanties he had left behind. Here he asked for food, and soonsat down to a plentiful meal, the coarseness of which was more thancompensated for by the excellence of his appetite. After dinner he beganto realize how tired he was, and felt astonished to hear from his hosthow far he was from Ottawa. 

'You can't get there to-night, ' said the farmer; 'it is no use yourtrying. You stay with us, and I'll take you in to-morrow. I'm going therein the afternoon. '

And so Kenyon remained all night, and slept the dreamless sleep of healthand exhaustion. 

It was somewhat late in the afternoon when he reached the city ofOttawa. Going towards his hotel, he was astonished to hear his nameshouted after him. Turning round, he saw a man, whom he did notrecognise, running after him. 

'Your name is Kenyon, isn't it?' asked the man, somewhat out of breath. 

'Yes, that is my name. '

'I guess you don't remember me. I am the telegraph operator. We have hada despatch waiting for you for some time, a cablegram from London. Wehave searched all over the town for you, but couldn't find you. '

'Ah, ' said Kenyon, 'is it important?'

'Well, that I don't know. You had better come with me to the office andget it. Of course, they don't generally cable unimportant things. Iremember it said something about you keeping yourself in readiness forsomething. '

They walked together to the telegraph-office. The boy was still searchingfor Kenyon with the original despatch, but the operator turned up thefile and read the copy to him. 

'You see, it wants an answer, ' he said; 'that's why I thought it wasimportant to get you. You will have plenty of time for an answerto-night. '

John took a lead pencil and wrote the cable despatch which Wentworthreceived. He paid his money, and said:

'I will go to my hotel; it is the ---- House. I will wait there, and ifanything comes for me, send it over as soon as possible. '

'All right, ' said the operator, 'that is the best plan; then we willknow exactly where to find you. Of course, there is no use in yourwaiting here, because we can get you in five minutes. Perhaps I hadbetter telephone to the hotel for you if anything comes. '

'Very well, ' said Kenyon; 'I will leave it all in your hands. '

Whether it was the effect of having been in the country or not, Johnfelt that the cablegram he had received was a good omen. He meditatedover the tremendous ill-fortune he had suffered in the whole businessfrom beginning to end, and thought of old Mr. Longworth's favouritephrase, 'There's no such thing as luck. '

Then came a rap at his door, and the bell-boy said:

'There is a gentleman here wishes to speak to you. '

'Ask him to come up, ' was the answer; and two minutes later Von Brententered. 

'Any news?' he asked. 

John, who was in a state of mind which made him suspicious of everythingand everybody, answered:

'No, nothing new. '

'Ah, I am sorry for that. I had some hopes that perhaps you might be ableto raise the money before twelve o'clock to-morrow. Of course you knowthe option ends at noon to-morrow?'

'Yes, I know that. '

'Did you know that Longworth was in Ottawa?'

'No, ' said Kenyon; 'I have been out of town myself. '

'Yes, he came last night. He has the money in the bank, as I told you. Now, I will not accept it until the very latest moment. Of course, legally, I cannot accept it before that time, and, just as legally, Icannot refuse his money when he tenders it. I am very sorry all this hashappened--more sorry than I can tell you. I hope you will not think thatI am to blame in the matter?'

'No, you are not in the slightest to blame. There is nobody in faultexcept myself. I feel that I have been culpably negligent, and altogethertoo trustful. '

'I wish to goodness I knew where you could get the money; but, ofcourse, if I knew that, I would have had it myself long ago. '

'I am very much obliged to you, ' said Kenyon; 'but the only thing you cando for me is to see that your clock is not ahead of time to-morrow. Imay, perhaps, be up at the office before twelve o'clock--that is where Ishall find you, I suppose?'

'Yes; I shall be there all the forenoon. I shall not leave until twelve. '

'Very good; I am much obliged to you, Mr. Von Brent, for your sympathy. Iassure you, I haven't many friends, and it--well, I'm obliged to you, that's all. An Englishman, you know, is not very profuse in the matter ofthanks, but I mean it. '

'I'm sure you do, ' said Von Brent, 'and I'm only sorry that my assistancecannot be something substantial. Well, good-bye, hoping to see youto-morrow. '

After he had departed, Kenyon's impatience increased as the hours wenton. He left the hotel, and went direct to the telegraph-office; butnothing had come for him. 

'I'm afraid, ' said the operator, 'that there won't be anything moreto-night. If it should come late, shall I send it to your hotel?'

'Certainly; no matter at what hour it comes, I wish you would let mehave it as soon as possible. It is very important. '

Leaving the office, he went up the street and, passing the principalhotel in the place, saw young Longworth standing under the portico of thehotel as dapper and correct in costume as ever, his single eyeglass theadmiration of all Ottawa, for there was not another like it in the city. 

'How do you do, Kenyon?' said that young man. 

'My dear sir, ' replied Kenyon, 'the last time you spoke to me you saidyou desired to have nothing more to say to me. I cordially reciprocatedthat sentiment, and I want to have nothing to say to you. '

'My dear fellow, ' cried Longworth jauntily, 'there is no harm done. Ofcourse, in New York I was a little out of sorts. Everybody is in NewYork--beastly hole! I don't think it is worse than Ottawa, but the air ispurer here. By the way, perhaps you and I can make a little arrangement. I am going to buy that mine to-morrow, as doubtless you know. Now, Ishould like to see it in the hands of a good and competent man. If acouple of hundred pounds a year would be any temptation to you, I thinkwe can afford to let you develop the mine. '

'Thank you!' said Kenyon. 

'I knew you would be grateful; just think over the matter, will you? anddon't come to any rash decision. We can probably give a little more thanthat; but until we see how the mine is turning out, it is not likely weshall spend a great deal of money on it. '

'Of course, ' said John, 'the proper answer to your remark would be toknock you down; but, besides being a law-abiding citizen, I have nodesire to get into gaol to-night for doing it, because there is onechance in a thousand, Mr. Longworth, that I may have some business to dowith that mine myself before twelve o'clock to-morrow. '

'Ah, it is my turn to be grateful now!' said Longworth. 'In arough-and-tumble fight I am afraid you would master me easier than youwould do in a contest of diplomacy. '

'Do you call it diplomacy? You refer, I suppose, to your action inrelation to the mine. I call it robbery. '

'Oh, do you? Well, that is the kind of conversation which leads tobreaches of the peace; and as I also am a law-abiding subject, I willnot continue the discussion any further. I bid you a very good evening, Mr. Kenyon. '

The young man turned on his heel and went into the hotel. John walked tohis own much more modest inn, and retired for the night. He did not sleepwell. All night long, phantom telegraph-messengers were rapping at thedoor, and he started up every now and then to receive cablegrams whichfaded away as he awoke. Shortly after breakfast he went to thetelegraph-office, but found that nothing had arrived for him. 

'I am afraid, ' said the operator, 'that nothing will come on beforenoon. '

'Before noon!' echoed John. 'Why?'

'The wires are down in some places in the East, and messages are delayeda good deal. Perhaps you noticed the lack of Eastern news in the morningpapers? Very little news came from the East last night. ' Seeing John'slook of anxious interest, the operator continued: 'Does the despatch youexpect pertain to money matters?'

'Yes, it does. '

'Do they know you at the bank?'

'No, I don't think they do. '

'Then, if I were you, I would go up to the bank and be identified, sothat, if it is a matter of minutes, no unnecessary time may be lost. Youhad better tell them you expect a money-order by cable, and, althoughsuch orders are paid without any identification at the bank, yet theytake every precaution to see that it does not get into the hands of thewrong man. '

'Thank you, ' said Kenyon. 'I am much obliged to you for your suggestion. I will act upon it. '

And as soon as the bank opened, John Kenyon presented himself to thecashier. 

'I am expecting a large amount of money from England to-day. It is veryimportant that, when it arrives, there shall be no delay in having itplaced at my disposal. I want to know if there are any formalities to begone through. '

'Where is the money coming from?' said the clerk. 

'It is coming from England. '

'Is there anyone in Ottawa who can identify you?'

'Yes; I know the telegraph operator here. '

'Ah!' said the cashier somewhat doubtfully. 'Anybody else?'

'Mr. Von Brent knows me very well. '

'That will do. Suppose you get Mr. Von Brent to come here and identifyyou as the man who bears the name of Kenyon. Then the moment yourcablegram comes the money will be at your disposal. '

Kenyon hurried to Von Brent's rooms and found him alone. 

'Will you come down to the bank and identify me as Kenyon?'

'Certainly. Has the money arrived?'

'No, it has not; but I expect it, and want to provide for everycontingency. I do not wish to have any delay in my identification when itdoes come. '

'If it comes by cable, ' said Von Brent, 'there will be no need ofidentification. The bank is not responsible, you know. They take themoney entirely at the sender's risk. They might pay it to the telegraphoperator who receives the message! I believe they would not be heldliable. However, it is better to see that nothing is left undone. '

Going over to the bank, Von Brent said to the cashier: 'This is JohnKenyon. '

'Very good, ' replied the cashier. 'Have you been at the telegraph-officelately, Mr. Kenyon?'

'No, I have not--at least, not for half an hour or so. '

'Well, I would go there as soon as possible, if I were you. '

'That means, ' said Von Brent, as soon as they had reached the door, 'thatthey have had their notice about the money. I believe it is already inthe bank for you. I will go back to my rooms and not leave them till youcome. '

John hurried to the telegraph-office. 

'Anything for me yet?' he said. 

'Nothing as yet, Mr. Kenyon; I think, however, ' he added with a smile, 'that it will be all right. I hope so. '

The moments ticked along with their usual rapidity, yet it seemed toKenyon the clock was going fearfully fast. Eleven o'clock came and foundhim still pacing up and down the office of the telegraph. The operatoroffered him the hospitality of the private room, but this he declined. Every time the machine clicked, John's ears were on the alert, trying tocatch a meaning from the instrument. 

Ten minutes after eleven!

Twenty minutes after eleven, and still no despatch! The cold perspirationstood on John's brow, and he groaned aloud. 

'I suppose it's very important, ' said the operator. 

'_Very_ important. '

'Well, now, I shouldn't say so, but I know the money is in the bank foryou. Perhaps if you went up there and demanded it, they would give it toyou. '

It was twenty-five minutes past the hour when John hurried towards thebank. 

'I have every belief, ' he said to the cashier, 'that the money is herefor me now. Is it possible for me to get it?'

'Have you your cablegram?'

'No, I have not. '

'Well, you know, we cannot pay the money until we see your cablegram. Iftime is of importance, you should not leave the telegraph-office, and themoment you get your message, come here; then there will be no delaywhatever. Do you wish to draw all the money at once?'

'I don't know how much there is, but I must have twenty thousand pounds. '

'Very well, to save time you had better make out a cheque for twentythousand pounds; that will be----'

And here he gave the number of dollars at the rate of the day on thepound. 'Just make out a cheque for that amount, and I will certify it. Acertified cheque is as good as gold. The moment you get your message Iwill hand you the certified cheque. '

John wrote out the order and gave it to the cashier, glancing at theclock as he did so. It was now twenty-five minutes to twelve. He rushedto the telegraph-office with all the speed of which he was capable, butmet only a blank look again from the chief operator. 

'It has not come yet, ' he said, shaking his head. 

Gradually despair began to descend on the waiting man. It was worse tomiss everything now, than never to have had the hope of success. It waslike hanging a man who had once been reprieved. He resumed his nervouspace up and down that chamber of torture. A quarter to twelve. He heardchimes ring somewhere. If the message did not come before they rangagain, it would be for ever too late. 

Fourteen minutes--thirteen minutes--twelve minutes--eleven minutes--tenminutes to twelve, and yet, no--

'Here you are!' shouted the operator in great glee, 'she's a-coming--it'sall right--"John Kenyon, Ottawa. "' Then he wrote as rapidly as themachine ticked out the message. 'There it is; now rush!'

John needed no telling to rush. People had begun to notice him asthe man who was doing nothing but running between the bank and thetelegraph-office. 

It was seven minutes to twelve when he got to the bank. 

'Is that despatch right?' he said, shoving it through the archedaperture. 

The clerk looked at it with provoking composure, and then compared itwith some papers. 

'For God's sake, hurry!' pleaded John. 

'You have plenty of time, ' said the cashier coolly, looking up at theclock and going on with his examination. 'Yes, ' he added, 'that is right. Here is your certified cheque. '

John clasped it, and bolted out of the bank as a burglar might have done. It was five minutes to twelve when he got to the steps that led to therooms of Mr. Von Brent. Now all his excitement seemed to have desertedhim. He was as cool and calm as if he had five days, instead of so manyminutes, in which to make the payment. He mounted the steps quietly, walked along the passage, and knocked at the door of Von Brent's room. 

'Come in!' was the shout that greeted him. 

He opened the door, glancing at the clock behind Von Brent's head ashe did so. 

It stood at three minutes to twelve. 

Young Mr. Longworth was sitting there, with just a touch of pallor on hiscountenance, and there seemed to be an ominous glitter in his eyeglass. He said nothing, and John Kenyon completely ignored his presence. 

'There is still some life left in my option, I believe?' he said to VonBrent, after nodding good-day to him. 

'Very little, but perhaps it will serve. You have two minutes and ahalf, ' said Von Brent. 

'Are the papers ready?' inquired John. 

'All ready, everything except putting in the names. '

'Very well, here is the money. '

Von Brent looked at the certified cheque. 'That is perfectly right, ' hesaid, 'the mine is yours. '

Then he rose and stretched his hand across the table to Kenyon, whograsped it cordially. 

Young Mr. Longworth also rose, and said languidly 'As this seems to bea meeting of long-lost brothers, I shall not intrude. Good-day, Mr. Von Brent. '

Then, adjusting his eyeglass in a leisurely manner, he walked outof the room. 

CHAPTER XXXVII. 

When Edith Longworth entered the office of George Wentworth, that younggentleman somewhat surprised her. He sprang from his chair the moment sheentered the room, rushed out of the door, and shouted at the top of hisvoice to the boy, who answered him, whereupon Wentworth returned to theroom, apparently in his right mind. 

'I beg your pardon, Miss Longworth, ' he said, laughing; 'the fact was, Ihad just sent my boy with a telegram for you, and now, you see, I havesaved sixpence. '

'Then you have heard from Canada?' said the young lady. 

'Yes; a short message, but to the point. ' He handed her the cablegram, and she read:

'Mine purchased; shall take charge temporarily. '

'Then, the money got there in time, ' she said, handing him back thetelegraphic message. 

'Oh yes, ' said George, with the easy confidence of a man who doesn't atall know what he is talking about. 'We had plenty of time; I knew itwould get there all right. '

'I am glad of that; I was afraid perhaps we might have sent it too late. One can never tell what delays or formalities there may be. '

'Evidently there was no trouble. And now, Miss Longworth, what are yourcommands? Am I to be your agent here, in Great Britain?'

'Have you written to Mr. Kenyon?'

'Yes, I wrote to him just after I sent the cable message. '

'Of course you didn't----'

'No, I didn't say a word that would lead him to suspect who was themistress of the mine. In my zeal I even went so far as to give you aname. You are hereafter to be known in the correspondence as Mr. Smith, the owner of the mine. '

Miss Longworth laughed. 

'And--oh, by the way, ' cried Wentworth, 'here is a barrel belonging toyou. '

'A barrel!' she said, and, looking in the direction to which he pointed, she saw in the corner of the room a barrel with the head taken away. 'Ifit is my property, ' continued the young woman, 'who has taken the libertyof opening it?'

'Oh, I did that as your agent. That barrel contains the mineral from themine, which we hope will prove so valuable. It started from Canada overthree months ago, and only arrived here the other day. It seems that theidiot who sent it addressed it by way of New York, and it was held bysome Jack-in-office belonging to the United States Customs. We have hadmore diplomatic correspondence and trouble about that barrel than youcan imagine, and now it comes a day behind the fair, when it is really ofno use to anyone. '

Miss Longworth rose and went to the barrel. She picked out some of thebeautiful white specimens that were in it. 

'Is this the mineral?' she asked. 

Wentworth laughed. 

'Imagine a person buying a mine at an exorbitant price, and not knowingwhat it produces. Yes, that is the mineral. '

'This is not mica, of course?'

'No, it is not mica. That is the stuff used for the making of china. '

'It looks as if it would take a good polish. Will it, do you know?'

'I do not know. I could easily find out for you. '

'I wish you would, and get a piece of it polished, which I will use as apaper-weight. '

'What are your orders for the rest of the barrel?'

'What did you intend doing with it?' said the young woman. 

'Well, I was thinking the best plan would be to send some of it to eachof the pottery works in this country, and get their orders for more ofthe stuff, if they want to use it. '

'I think that an extremely good idea. I understand from the cablegramthat Mr. Kenyon says he will take charge of the mine temporarily. '

'Yes; I imagine he left Ottawa at once, as soon as he had concluded hisbargain. Of course, we shall not know for certain until he writes. '

'Very well, then, it appears to me the best thing you could do over herewould be to secure what orders can be obtained in England for themineral. Then, I suppose, you could write to Mr. Kenyon, and ask him toengage a proper person to work the mine. '

'Yes, I will do that. '

'When he comes over here, you and he can have a consultation as to thebest thing to do next. I expect nothing very definite can be arrangeduntil he comes. You may make whatever excuse you can for the absence ofthe mythical Mr. Smith, and say that you act for him. Then you may tellMr. Kenyon, in whatever manner you choose, that Mr. Smith intends bothyou and Mr. Kenyon to share conjointly with him. I think you will have notrouble in making John--that is, in making Mr. Kenyon--believe there issuch a person as Mr. Smith, if you put it strongly enough to him. Makehim understand that Mr. Smith would never have heard of the mine unlessMr. Kenyon and you had discovered it, and that he is very glad indeed tohave such a good opportunity of investing his money; so that, naturally, he wishes those who have been instrumental in helping him to thisinvestment to share in its profits. I imagine you can make all this clearenough, so that your friend will suspect nothing. Don't you think so?'

'Well, with any other man than John Kenyon I should have my doubts, because, as a fabricator, I don't think I have a very high reputation;but with John I have no fears whatever. He will believe everything Isay. It is almost a pity to delude so trustful a man, but it's so verymuch to his own advantage that I shall have no hesitation in doing it. '

'Then, you will write to him about getting a fit and proper person tomanage the mine?'

'Yes. I don't think there will be any necessity for doing so, but I willmake sure. I imagine John will not leave there until he sees everythingto his satisfaction. He will be very anxious indeed for the mine to provethe great success he has always believed it to be, even though, atpresent, he does not know he is to have any pecuniary interest in itsprosperity. '

'Very well then, I shall bid you good-bye. I may not be here again, butwhenever you hear from Mr. Kenyon, I shall be very glad if you will letme know. '

'Certainly; I will send you all the documents in the case, as you onceremarked. You always like to see the original papers, don't you?'

'Yes, I suppose I do. ' Miss Longworth lingered a moment at the door, then, looking straight at Wentworth, she said to him, 'You remember youspoke rather bitterly to my father the other day?'

'Yes, ' said Wentworth, colouring; 'I remember it. '

'You are a young man; he is old. Besides that, I think you were entirelyin the wrong. He had nothing whatever to do with his nephew's action. '

'Oh, I know that, ' said Wentworth. 'I would have apologized to him longago, only--well, you know, he told me I shouldn't be allowed in theoffice again, and I don't suppose I should. '

'A letter from you would be allowed in the office, ' replied the younglady, looking at the floor. 

'Of course it would, ' said George; 'I will write to him instantly andapologize. '

'It is very good of you, ' said, Edith, holding out her hand to him; thenext moment she was gone. 

George Wentworth turned to his desk and wrote a letter of apology. Thenhe mused to himself upon the strange and incomprehensible nature ofwomen. 'She makes me apologize to him, and quite right too; but if ithadn't been for the row with her father, she never would have heard aboutthe transaction, and therefore couldn't have bought the mine, which shewas anxious to do for Kenyon's sake--lucky beggar John is, after all!'

CHAPTER XXXVIII. 

When the business of transferring the mine to its new owner wascompleted, John Kenyon went to the telegraph-office, and sent a shortcable-message to Wentworth. Then he turned his steps to the hotel, anutterly exhausted man. The excitement and tension of the day had been toomuch for him, and he felt that, if he did not get out of the city ofOttawa and into the country, where there were fewer people and more air, he was going to be ill. He resolved to leave for the mine as soon aspossible. There he would get affairs in as good order as might be, andkeep things going until he heard from the owner. When he reached hishotel, he wrote a letter to Wentworth, detailing briefly thecircumstances under which he had secured the mine, and dealing with othermore personal matters. Having posted this, he began to pack hisportmanteau, preparatory to leaving early next morning. While thusoccupied, the bell-boy came into his room, and said:

'There is a gentleman wants to see you. '

He imagined at once that it was Von Brent, who wished to see him withregard to some formality relating to the transfer, and he was, therefore, very much astonished--in fact, for the moment speechless--when Mr. William Longworth entered and calmly gazed round the rather shabby roomwith his critical eyeglass. 

'Ah, ' he said, 'these are your diggings, are they? This is what they calla dollar hotel, I suppose, over here. Well, some people may like it, but, I confess, I don't care much about it, myself. Their three or fourdollars a day hotels are bad enough for me. By the way, you look rathersurprised to see me; being strangers together in a strange country, Iexpected a warmer greeting. You said last night, in front of the RussellHouse, that it would please you very much to give me a warm greeting;perhaps you would like to do so to-night. '

'Have you come up here to provoke a quarrel with me?' asked Kenyon. 

'Oh, bless you, no! Quarrel! Nothing of the sort. What should I want toquarrel about?'

'Perhaps you will be good enough to tell me why you come here, then?'

'A very reasonable request. Very reasonable indeed, and perfectlynatural, but still quite unnecessary. It is not likely that a man wouldclimb up here into your rooms, and then not be prepared to tell you whyhe came. I came, in the first place, to congratulate you on the beautifuland dramatic way in which you secured the mine at the last moment, orapparently at the last moment. I suppose you had the money all the time?'

'No, I had not. '

'Then you came in to Von Brent just as soon as you received it?'

'Well, now, I don't see that it is the business of anyone else butmyself. Still, if you want to know, I may say that I came to Mr. VonBrent's room at the moment I received the money. '

'Really! Then it was sent over by cable, I presume?'

'Your presumption is entirely correct. '

'My dear Kenyon, ' said the young man, seating himself without beingasked, and gazing at John in a benevolent kind of way, 'you really showsome temper over this little affair of yours. Now, here is the wholething in a nutshell----'

'My dear sir, I don't wish to hear the whole thing, in a nutshell. I knowall about it--all I wish to know. '

'Ah, precisely; of course you do; certainly; but, nevertheless, let mehave my say. Here is the whole thing. I tried to--well, to cheat you. I thought I could make a little money by doing so, and my schemefailed. Now, if anybody should be in a bad temper, it is I, not you. Don't you see that? You are not acting your part well at all. I'mastonished at you!'

'Mr. Longworth, I wish to have nothing whatever to say to you. If youhave anything to ask, I wish you would ask it as quickly as possible, andthen leave me alone. '

'The chief fault I find with you, Kenyon, ' said Longworth, throwing oneleg over the other, and clasping his hands round his knee--'the chieffault I have to find is your painful lack of a sense of humour. Now, you remember last night I offered you the managership of the mine. Ithought, certainly, that by this time to-day I should be owner of it, or, at least, one of the owners. Now, you don't appear to appreciate thefunniness of the situation. Here you are the owner of the mine, and I amout in the cold--"left, " as they say here in America. I am the man whois left----'

'If that is all you have to talk about, ' said Kenyon gravely, 'I must askyou to allow me to go on with my packing. I am going to the mineto-morrow. '

'Certainly, my dear fellow; go at once and never mind me. Can I be of anyassistance to you? It requires a special genius, you know, to pack aportmanteau properly. But what I wanted to say was this: Why didn't youturn round, when you had got the mine, and offer _me_ the managership ofit? Then you would have had your revenge. The more I think of thatepisode in Von Brent's office, the more I think you utterly failed torealize the dramatic possibilities of the situation. '

Kenyon was silent. 

'Now, all this time you are wondering why I came here. Doubtless you wishto know what I want. '

'I have not the slightest interest in the matter, ' said Kenyon. 

'That is ungracious, but, nevertheless, I will continue. It is better, Isee, to be honest with you, if a man wants to get anything from you. Now, I want to get a bit of information from you. I want to know where you gotthe money with which you bought the mine?'

'I got it from the bank. '

'Ah, yes, but I want to know who sent it over to you?'

'It was sent to me by George Wentworth. '

'Quite so; but _now_ I want to know who gave Wentworth the money?'

'You will have a chance of finding that out when you go to England, byasking him. '

'Then you won't tell me?'

'I can't tell you. '

'You mean by that, of course, that you won't. '

'I always mean, Mr. Longworth, exactly what I say. I mean that I can'ttell you. I don't know myself. '

'Really?'

'Yes, really. You seem to have some difficulty in believing that anybodycan speak the truth. '

'Well, it isn't a common vice, speaking the truth. You must forgive alittle surprise. ' He nursed his knee for a moment, and lookedmeditatively up at the ceiling. 'Now, would you like to know whofurnished that money?'

'I have no curiosity in the matter whatever. '

'Have you not? You are a singular man. It seems to me that a person intowhose lap twenty thousand pounds drops from the skies would have somelittle curiosity to know from whom the money came. '

'I haven't the slightest. '

'Nevertheless, I will tell you who gave the money to Wentworth. It wasmy dear friend Melville. I didn't tell you in New York, of course, thatMelville and I had a little quarrel about this matter, and he went homedecidedly huffy. I had no idea he would take this method of revenge; butI see it quite clearly now. He knew I had secured the option of themine. There was a little trouble as to what our respective shares wereto be, and I thought, as I had secured the option, I had the right todictate terms. He thought differently. He was going to Von Brent toexplain the whole matter; but I pointed out that such a course would dono good, the option being legally made out in my name, so that themoment your claim expired mine began. When this dawned upon him, he tookthe steamer and went to England. Now, I can see his hand in thisartistic finish to the affair. It was a pretty sharp trick ofMelville's, and I give him credit for it. He is a very much shrewder andcleverer man than I thought he was. '

'It seems to me, Mr. Longworth, that your inordinate conceit makes youalways underestimate your friends, or your enemies either, for thatmatter. '

'There is something in that, Kenyon; I think you are more than half right, but I thought, perhaps, I could make it advantageous to you to dome a favour in this matter. I thought you might have no objection towriting a little document to the effect that the money did not come intime, and consequently, I had secured the mine. Then, if you would signthat, I would take it over to Melville and make terms with him. Ofcourse, if he knows that he has the mine there will not be much chance ofcoming to any arrangement with him. '

'You can make no arrangements with me, Mr. Longworth, that involvesacrifice of the truth. '

'Ah, well, I suspected as much; but I thought it was worth trying. However, my dear sir, I may make terms with Melville yet, and then, Iimagine, you won't have much to do with the mine. '

'I shall not have anything to do with it if you and Melville have a sharein it; and if, as you suspect, Melville has the mine, I consider you arein a bad way. My opinion is that, when one rascal gets advantage overanother rascal, the other rascal will be, as you say, "left. "'

Longworth mused over this for a moment, and said:

'Yes, I fear you are right--in fact, I am certain of it. Well, that isall I wanted to know. I will bid you good-bye. I shan't see you again inOttawa, as I shall sail very shortly for England. Have you any messagesyou would like given to your friends over there?'

'None, thank you. '

'Well, ta-ta!' And John was left to his packing. That necessary operationconcluded, Kenyon sat down and thought over what young Longworth had toldhim. His triumph, after all, had been short-lived. The choice between thetwo scoundrels was so small that he felt he didn't care which of themowned the mine. Meditating on this disagreeable subject, he suddenlyremembered a request he had asked Wentworth to place before the new ownerof the mine. He wanted no favour from Melville, so he wrote a secondletter, contradicting the request made in the first, and, after postingit, returned to his hotel, and went to bed, probably the most tired manin the city of Ottawa. 

CHAPTER XXXIX. 

This chapter consists largely of letters. As a general rule, letters areof little concern to anyone except the writers and the receivers, butthey are inserted here in the hope that the reader is already wellenough acquainted with the correspondents to feel some interest in whatthey have written. 

It was nearly a fortnight after the receipt of the cablegram from Kenyonthat George Wentworth found, one morning, on his desk two letters, eachbearing a Canadian postage-stamp. One was somewhat bulky and one wasthin, but they were both from the same writer. He tore open the thin onefirst, without looking at the date stamped upon it. He was a littlebewildered by its contents, which ran as follows:

'MY DEAR GEORGE, 'I have just heard that Melville is the man who has bought the mine. Thecircumstances of the case leave no doubt in my mind that such is thefact; therefore, please disregard the request I made as to employment inthe letter I posted to you a short time ago. I feel a certain sense ofdisappointment in the fact that Melville is the owner of the mine. Itseems I have only kept one rascal from buying it in order to put it inthe hands of another rascal. 

'Your friend, 'JOHN KENYON. '

'Melville the owner!' cried Wentworth to himself. 'What could have putthat into John's head? This letter is evidently the one posted a fewhours before, so it will contain whatever request he has to make;' and, without delay, George Wentworth tore open the envelope of the secondletter, which was obviously the one written first. 

It contained a number of documents relating to the transfer of the mine. The letter from John himself went on to give particulars of the buying ofthe property. Then it continued:

'I wish you would do me a favour, George. Will you kindly ask the ownerof the mine if he will give me charge of it? I am, of course, anxious tomake it turn out as well as possible, and I believe I can more than earnmy salary, whatever it is. You know I am not grasping in the matter ofmoney, but get me as large a salary as you think I deserve. I desire tomake money for reasons that are not entirely selfish, as you know. Totell you the truth, George, I am tired of cities and of people. I want tolive here in the woods, where there is not so much deceit and treacheryas there seems to be in the big towns. When I reached London last time, Ifelt like a boy getting home. My feelings have undergone a completechange, and I think, if it were not for you and a certain young lady, Ishould never care to see the big city again. What is the use of myaffecting mystery, and writing the words "a certain young lady"? Ofcourse, you know whom I mean--Miss Edith Longworth. You know, also, thatI am, and have long been, in love with her. If I had succeeded in makingthe money I thought I should by selling the mine, I might have had somehopes of making more, and of ultimately being in a position to ask her tobe my wife; but that and very many other hopes have disappeared with myrecent London experiences. I want to get into the forest and recover someof my lost tone, and my lost faith in human nature. If you can arrangematters with the owner of the mine, so that I may stay here for a yearor two, you will do me a great favour. '

George Wentworth read over the latter part of this letter two or threetimes. Then he rose, paced the floor, and pondered. 

'It isn't a thing upon which I can ask anyone's advice, ' he muttered tohimself. 'The trouble with Kenyon is, he is entirely too modest; a littleuseful self-esteem would be just the thing for him. ' At last he stoppedsuddenly in his walk. 'By Jove!' he said to himself, slapping his thigh, 'I shall do it, let the consequences be what they may. '

Then he sat down at his desk and wrote a letter. 

'DEAR Miss LONGWORTH' (it began), 'You told me when you were here last that you wanted all the documentspertaining to the mine, in every instance. A document has come thismorning that is rather important. John Kenyon, as you will learn byreading the letter, desires the managership of the mine. I need not saythat I think he is the best man in the world for the position, and thateverything will be safe in his hands. I therefore enclose you his letter. I had some thought of cutting out a part of it, but knowing your desireto have all the documents in the case, I take the liberty of sending thisone exactly as it reached me, and if anyone is to blame, I am the person. 

'I remain, your agent, 'GEORGE WENTWORTH. '

He sent this letter out at once, so that he would not have a chance tochange his mind. 

'It will reach her this afternoon, and doubtless she will call and seeme. '

It is, perhaps, hardly necessary to say she did _not_ call, and she didnot see him for many days afterwards; but next morning, when he came tohis office, he found a letter from her. It ran:

'DEAR MR. WENTWORTH, 'The sending of Mr. Kenyon's letter to me is a somewhat dangerousprecedent, which you must on no account follow by sending any letters youmay receive from any other person to Mr. Kenyon. However, as you wereprobably aware when you sent the letter, no blame will rest on yourshoulders, or on those of anyone else, in this instance. Still, be verycareful in future, because letter-sending, unabridged, is sometimes arisky thing to do. You are to remember that I always want all thedocuments in the case, and I want them with nothing eliminated. I am verymuch obliged to you for forwarding the letter. 

'As to the managership of the mine, of course I thought Mr. Kenyon woulddesire to come back to London. If he is content to stay abroad, andreally wants to stay there, I wish you would tell him that Mr. Smith isexceedingly pleased to know he is willing to take charge of the mine. Itwould not look businesslike on the part of Mr. Smith to say that Mr. Kenyon is to name his own salary, but, unfortunately, Mr. Smith is veryignorant as to what a proper salary should be, so will you kindly settlethat question? You know the usual salary for such an occupation. Pleasewrite down that figure, and add two hundred a year to it. Tell Mr. Kenyon the amount named is the salary Mr. Smith assigns to him. 

'Pray be very careful in the wording of the letters, so that Mr. Kenyonwill not have any idea who Mr. Smith is. 

'Yours truly, 'EDITH LONGWORTH. 

When Wentworth received this letter, being a man, he did not know whetherMiss Longworth was pleased or not. However, he speedily wrote to John, telling him that he was appointed manager of the mine, and that Mr. Smithwas very much pleased to have him in that capacity. He named the salary, but said if it was not enough, no doubt Mr. Smith was so anxious for hisservices that the amount would be increased. 

John, when he got the letter, was more than satisfied. 

At the time Wentworth was reading his letters, John had received thosewhich had been sent when the mine was bought. He was relieved to findthat Melville was not, after all, the owner; and he went to work with awill, intending to put in two or three years of his life, with hardlabour, in developing the resources of the property. The first fortnight, before he received any letters, he did nothing but make himselfacquainted with the way work was being carried on there. He found manythings to improve. The machinery had been allowed to run down, and themen worked in the listless way men do when they are under no particularsupervision. The manager of the mine was very anxious about his position. John told him the property had changed hands but, until he had furthernews from England, he could not tell just what would be done. When theletters came, John took hold with a will, and there was soon a decidedimprovement in the way affairs were going. He allowed the old manager toremain as a sort of sub-manager; but that individual soon found that theeasy times of the Austrian Mining Company were for ever gone. 

Kenyon had to take one or two long trips in Canada and the UnitedStates, to arrange for the disposal of the products of the mine; but, as a general rule, his time was spent entirely in the log village nearthe river. 

When a year had passed, he was able to write a very jubilant letter toWentworth. 

'You see, ' he said, 'after all, the mine was worth the two hundredthousand pounds we asked for it. It pays, even the first year, ten percent. On that amount. This will give back all the mine has cost, and Ithink, George, the honest thing for us to do would be to let the wholeproceeds go to Mr. Smith this year, who advanced the money at a criticaltime. This will recoup him for his outlay, because the working capitalhas not been touched. The mica has more than paid the working of themine, and all the rest is clear profit. Therefore, if you are willing, wewill let our third go this year, and then we can take our large dividendnext year with a clear conscience. I enclose the balance-sheet. '

To this letter there came an answer in due time from Wentworth, who saidthat he had placed John's proposal before Mr. Smith; but it seemed thegentleman was so pleased with the profitable investment he had made thathe would hear of no other division of the profits but that of share andshare alike. He appeared to be very much touched by the offer John hadmade, and respected him for making it, but the proposed rescinding onhis part and Wentworth's was a thing not to be thought of. This beingthe case, John sent a letter and a very large cheque to his father. Themoment of posting that letter was, doubtless, one of the happiest of hislife, and this ends the formidable array of letters which appears inthis chapter. 

CHAPTER XL. 

Wentworth had written to Kenyon that Mr. Smith absolutely refused to takemore than one-third of the profits of the mine. It was true that theoffer had been declined, but Wentworth never knew how much tempted theMistress of the Mine had been when he made it. Her one great desire wasto pay back the thirty thousand pounds to her father, and she wanted todo it as speedily as possible. At the end of the second year her profitsfrom the mine, including the return of the five thousand pounds which hadbeen sent to Ottawa as working capital, was still about five thousandpounds under the thirty thousand pounds. She looked forward eagerly tothe time when she would be able to pay the thirty thousand pounds to herfather. Old Mr. Longworth had never spoken a word to his daughter aboutthe money. She had expected he would ask her what she had done with it, but he had never mentioned the subject. Her conscience troubled her veryfrequently about the method she had taken to obtain that large amount. She saw that her father had changed in his manner towards her since thatday. He had given her the money, but he had given it, as one might say, almost under compulsion, and there was no doubt that, generous as hewas, he did not like being coerced into parting with his money. EdithLongworth had paid more for the mine than the amount of cash she haddeposited in Ottawa. She had paid for it by being cut off from herfather's confidence. Now he never asked her advice about any of hisbusiness ventures, and, for the first time in many years, he had taken along sea-voyage without inviting her to accompany him. All this made thegirl more and more anxious to obtain the money to pay back herindebtedness, and, if Wentworth had made the same offer at the end of thesecond year which he had made at the close of the first, she would haveaccepted it. The offer, however, was not made, and Miss Longworth saidnothing, but took her share of the profits and put them into the bank. 

The plan of placing all one's eggs into the same basket is a goodone--until something happens to the basket! It is said that lightningnever strikes twice in the same place, and, as the small boy remarked, 'it never needed to. ' In Mr. Longworth's affairs lightning struck inthree places, and in each of those strokes it hit a large basket. A newlaw had been passed in one part of the world that vitally affected greatinterests he held there. In another part of the world, at the same time, there occurred a revolution, and every business in that country stoppedfor the time being. In still another part of the world there had been acommercial crisis; and, in sympathy with all these financial disasters, the money market in London was exceedingly stringent. 

Everybody wanted to sell, and nobody wished to buy. This unfortunatecombination of circumstances hit old Mr. Longworth hard. It was not thathe did not believe all his investments were secure, could he onlyweather the gale, but there was an immediate need of ready money which itseemed absolutely impossible to obtain. Day by day his daughter saw himageing perceptibly. She knew worry was the cause of this, and she knewthe events that were happening in different parts of the world mustseriously embarrass her father. She longed to speak to him about hisbusiness, but one attempt she made in this direction had been very rudelyrebuffed, and she was not a woman to tempt a second repulse of that kind. So she kept silent, and saw with grief the havoc business troubles weremaking with her father's health. 

'The old man, ' said young Longworth, 'seems to be in a corner. '

'I do not want you ever again to allude to my father as "the oldman"--remember that!' cried the girl indignantly. 

Young Longworth shrugged his shoulders, and said:

'I don't think you can insist on my calling him a young man much longer. If he isn't an old man, I should like to know who is?'

'That doesn't matter, ' said Edith. 'You must not use such a phrase againin my hearing. What do you mean by saying he is in a corner?'

'Well, ' returned the young man, 'I don't know much about his business. Hedoes not take me into his confidence at all. In fact, the older he grows, the closer he gets, and the chances are he will make some very badspeculation before long, if he has not done so already. That is the waywith old men, begging your pardon for using the phrase. It is notlevelled against your father in this instance, but at old men as a class, especially men who have been successful. They seem to resent anybodygiving them advice. '

One day Edith received a telegram, asking her to come to the office inthe City without delay. She was panic-stricken when she read the message, feeling sure her father had been stricken down in his office, and wasprobably dying--perhaps dead. She had feared some such result for a longtime, because of the intense anxiety to which he had been subjected, andhe was not a man who could be counselled to take care of himself on theplea that he was getting old. He resented any intimation that he was notas good a business man as he had ever been, and so it was extremelydifficult to get him to listen to reason, if anyone had the courage totalk reason to him. 

Edith, without a moment's delay, sprang lightly into a hansom, and wentto the District Railway without waiting for her carriage. From theMansion House Station another cab took her quickly to her father'soffice. 

She was immensely relieved, as she passed through, to see the clerksworking as if nothing particular had happened. On entering her father'sroom, she found him pacing up and down the apartment, while her cousinsat, apparently absorbed in his own affairs, at his desk. Her father wasevidently greatly excited. 

'Edith, ' he cried the moment she entered, 'where is that money I gave youtwo years ago?'

'It is invested, ' she answered, turning slightly pale. 

Her father laughed--a hoarse, dry laugh. 

'Just as I thought, ' he sneered--'put in such shape that a personcannot touch a penny of it, I suppose. In what is it invested? I musthave that money. '

'How soon do you need it, father?

'I want it just now, at this moment; if I don't have that money I am aruined man. '

'This moment. I suppose, means any time to-day, before the bank closes?'

Her father looked at her for a moment, then said:

'Yes that is what it means. 

'I will try and get you the money before that time. '

'My dear girl, ' he said bitterly, 'you don't know what you are talkingabout. If you have that money invested, even if your investment is worththree times now what it was then, you could not get a penny on it. Don'tyou know the state of the London money market? Don't you know how closemoney is? I thought perhaps you might have some portion of it yet, notsunk in your silly investment, whatever it is. I have never asked youwhat it was. You told me you would tell me, but you never have done so. Ilooked on that money as lost. I look on it still as lost. If you can getme a remnant of it, it will help me now more than the whole amount, ordouble the amount, would have done at the time I gave it to you. Whathave you done with the money? What is it invested in?'

'It is invested in a mine. '

'A mine. Of all things in the world in which to sink money, a mine is theworst. Just what a woman or a fool would do! How do you expect to raisemoney on a mine in the present state of the market? What, in the name ofwonder, made you put it into a mine? Whose mine did you buy?'

'I do not know whose it was, father, but I was willing to tell you all Iknew at the time you asked me and if you ask me now what mine I bought, Iwill tell you. '

'Certainly I ask you. What mine did you buy?'

'I bought the mine for which John Kenyon was agent. '

The moment these words were said, her cousin sprang to his feet andglared at her like a man demented. 

'You bought that mine--you? Then Wentworth lied to me. He said a Mr. Smith had given him the money. '

'I am the Mr. Smith, William. '

'You are the Mr. Smith! You are the one who has cheated me out of thatmine!'

'My dear cousin, the less we say about cheating, the better. I am talkingto my father just now, and I do not wish to be interrupted. Will you beso kind as to leave the room until my interview with him is over?'

'So you bought the mica-mine, did you! Pretending to be friendly with me, and knowing all the time that you were doing your best to cheat----'

'Come, come!' interrupted the old gentleman; 'William, none of this. Ifanyone is to talk roughly to Edith, it will be me, not you. Come, sir, leave the room, as she has asked you to do. Now, my daughter, ' hecontinued, in a much milder tone of voice, after young Longworth had leftthe office, 'have you any ready money? It is no use saying the mine isworth a hundred thousand pounds, or a million, just now, if you haven'tthe ready money. Edith, my child, ' he cried, 'sit down with me a moment, and I will explain the whole situation to you. It seems to me that eversince I stopped consulting you things have gone wrong. Perhaps, even ifyou have the money, it is better not to risk it just now; but one poundwill do what two pounds will not do a year hence, or perhaps six monthsfrom now, when this panic is over. '

Edith sat down beside her father and heard from him exactly how thingsstood. Then she said:

'All you really need is about fifteen thousand pounds?'

'Yes, that would do; I'm sure that would carry me over. Can you get itfor me, my child?'

'Yes, and more. I will try to get you the whole amount. Wait for me heretwenty minutes or half an hour. '

George Wentworth was very much surprised when he saw Edith Longworthenter his office. It had been many months since she was there before, andhe cordially held out his hand to the girl. 

'Mr. Wentworth, ' she began at once, 'have you any of the money the micamine has brought you?'

'Yes. I invested the first year's proceeds, but, since I got the lastamount, things have been so shaky in the City that it is still at thebank. '

'Will you lend me--_can_ you lend me five thousand pounds of it?'

'Of, course I can, and will; and very glad I am to get the chance ofdoing so. '

'Then, please write me out a cheque for it at once, and whatever papersyou want as security, make them out, and I will see that you aresecured. '

'Look here, Miss Longworth, ' said the young man, placing his hands on hiships and gazing at her, 'do you mean to insult me? Do you not know thatthe reason I am able to write out a cheque for five thousand pounds, thatwill be honoured, is entirely because you trusted your money to me andKenyon without security? Do you think I want security? Take back theword, Miss Longworth. '

'I will--I will, ' she said; 'but I am in a great hurry. Please write meout the cheque, for I must have it before the bank closes. '

The cheque was promptly written out and handed to her. 

'I am afraid, ' she said, 'I am not very polite to-day, and rather abrupt;but I will make up for it some other time. '

And so, bidding the young man good-bye, she drove to the bank, depositedthe cheque, drew her own for thirty thousand pounds, and carried it toher father. 

'There, ' she said, 'is thirty thousand pounds, and I still own the mine, or, at least, part of it. All the money is made from the cheque you gaveme, or, rather, two-thirds of it, because one-third was never touched. Now, it seems to me, father, that, if I am a good enough business womanto more than double my money in two years, I am a good enough businesswoman to be consulted by my father whenever he needs a confidant. My dearfather, I want to take some of the burden off your shoulders. '

There were tears in her father's eyes as he put his arm round her waistand whispered to her:

'There is no one in all London like you, my dear--no one, no one. I'llhave no more secrets from you, my own brave girl. '

CHAPTER XLI. 

Kenyon's luck, as he said to himself, had turned. The second year waseven more prosperous than the first, and the third as successful as thesecond. He had a steady market for his mineral, and, besides, he had thegreat advantage of knowing the rogues to avoid. Some new swindles he hadencountered during his first year's experience had taught him lessonsthat he profited by in the second and third. He liked his home in thewilderness, and he liked the rough people amongst whom he found himself. 

Notwithstanding his renunciation of London, however, there would now andthen come upon him a yearning for the big city, and he promised himself atrip there at the end of the third year. Wentworth had been threateningmonth after month to come out and see him, but something had alwaysinterfered. 

Taking it all in all, John liked it better in the winter than in thesummer, in spite of the extreme cold. The cold was steady and could bedepended upon; moreover, it was healthful and invigorating. In summer, John never quite became accustomed to the ravages of the black fly, themosquito, and other insect pests of that region. His first interview withthe black fly left his face in such a condition that he was glad he livedin a wilderness. 

At the beginning of the second winter John treated himself to a luxury. He bought a natty little French Canadian horse that was very quick andaccustomed to the ice of the river, which formed the highway by which hereached Burntpine from the mine in the cold season. To supplement thehorse, he also got a comfortable little cutter, and with this turn-outhe made his frequent journeys between the mine and Burntpine with comfortand speed, wrapped snugly in buffalo robes. 

If London often reverted to his mind, there was another subject thatobtruded itself even more frequently. His increased prosperity hadsomething to do with this. He saw that, if he was to have a third of thereceipts of the mine, he was not to remain a poor man for very long, andthis fact gave him a certain courage which had been lacking before. Hewondered if she remembered him. Wentworth had said very little about herwhen he wrote, for his letters were largely devoted to enthusiasticeulogies of Jennie Brewster, and Kenyon, in spite of the confession hehad made when his case seemed hopeless, was loath to write and ask hisfriend anything about Edith. 

One day, on a clear sharp frosty winter morning, Kenyon had his littlepony harnessed for his weekly journey to Burntpine. After the rougherpart of the road between the mine and the river had been left behind, andthe pony got down to her work on the ice, with the two white banks ofsnow on either side of the smooth track, John gave himself up to thinkingabout the subject which now so often engrossed his mind. Wrapped closelyin his furs, with the cutter skimming along the ice, these thoughts founda pleasant accompaniment in the silvery tinkle of the bells which jingledaround his horse's neck. As a general thing, he met no one on the icyroad from the mine to the village. Sometimes there was a procession ofsleighs bearing supplies for his own mine and those beyond, and when thisprocession was seen, Kenyon had to look out for some place by the side ofthe track where he could pull up his horse and cutter and allow theteams to pass. The snow on each side of the cutting was so deep thatthese bays were shovelled out here and there to permit teams to get pasteach other. He had gone halfway to the village, when he saw ahead of hima pair of horses which he at once recognised as those belonging to thehotel-keeper. He drew up in the first bay and awaited the approach of thesleigh. He saw that it contained visitors for himself, because thedriver, on recognising him, had turned round and spoken to the occupantsof the vehicle. As it came along, the man drew up and nodded to Kenyon, who, although ordinarily the most polite of men, did not return thesalutation. He was stricken dumb with astonishment on seeing who was inthe sleigh. One woman was so bundled up that not even her nose appearedout in the cold, but the smiling rosy face of the other needed nointroduction to John Kenyon. 

'Well, Mr. Kenyon, ' cried a laughing voice, 'you did not expect to see methis morning, did you?'

'I confess I did not, ' said John, 'and yet--. ' Here he paused; he wasgoing to say, 'and yet I was thinking of you, ' but he checked himself. 

Miss Longworth, who had a talent for reading the unspoken thoughts ofJohn Kenyon, probably did not need to be told the end of the sentence. 

'Are you going to the village?' she asked. 

'I _was_ going. I am not going now. '

'That's right. I was just about to invite you to turn round with us. Yousee, we are on our way to look at the mine, and, I suppose, we shall haveto obtain the consent of the manager before we can do so. '

Miss Longworth's companion had emerged for a moment from her wraps andlooked at John, but instantly retired among the furs again with ashiver. She was not so young as her companion, and she considered thisthe most frightful climate she had ever encountered. 

'Now, ' said John, 'although your sleigh is very comfortable, I think thiscutter of mine is even more so. It is intended for two; won't you stepout of the sleigh into the cutter? Then, if the driver will move on, Ican turn, and we will follow the sleigh. '

'I shall be delighted to do so, ' said the young woman, shaking herselffree from the buffalo robe, and stepping lightly from the sleigh into thecutter, pausing, however, for a moment, before she did so, to put her ownwraps over her companion. John tucked her in beside himself, and, as thesleigh jingled on, he slowly turned his pony round into the road again. 

'I have got a pretty fast pony, ' he said, 'but I think we will letthem drive on ahead. It irritates this little horse to see anything infront of it. '

'Then we can make up speed, ' said Edith, 'and catch them before they getto the mine. Is it far from here?'

'No, not very far; at least, it doesn't take long to get there with asmart horse. '

'I have enjoyed this experience ever so much, ' she said; 'you see, myfather had to come to Montreal on business, so I came with him, as usual, and, being there, I thought I would run up here and see the mine. Iwanted, ' she continued, looking at the other side of the cutter andtrailing her well-gloved fingers in the snow--'I wanted to knowpersonally whether my manager was conducting my property in the way itought to be conducted, notwithstanding the very satisfactorybalance-sheets he sends. '

'_Your_ property!' exclaimed John, in amazement. 

'Certainly. You didn't know that, did you?' she replied, looking for amoment at him, and then away from him. 'I call myself the Mistress ofthe Mine. '

'Then you are--you are----'

'Mr. Smith, ' said the girl coming to his rescue. 

There was a moment's pause, and the next words John said were not at allwhat she expected. 

'Take your hand out of the snow, ' he commanded, 'and put it in under thebuffalo robe; you have no idea how cold it is here, and your hand will befrozen in a moment. '

'Really, ' said the girl, 'an employee must not talk to his employer inthat tone! My hand is my own, is it not?'

'I hope it is, ' said John, 'because I want to ask you for it. '

For answer Miss Edith Longworth placed her hand in his. 

Actions speak louder than words. The sleigh was far in advance, and therewere no witnesses on the white topped hills. 

'Were you astonished?' she said, 'when I told you that I owned the mine?'

'Very much so indeed. Were _you_ astonished when I told you I wished toown the owner of the mine?'

'Not in the slightest. '

'Why?'

'Because your treacherous friend Wentworth sent me your letter applyingfor a situation. You got the situation, didn't you, John?'

THE END