Next morning Charles and I had a regular debate with young Granton about the rival options. Our talk was of cyanide processes, reverberatories, pennyweights, water-jackets. But it dawned upon us soon that, in spite of his red hair and his innocent manners, our friend, the Honourable David Granton, knew a thing or two. Gradually and gracefully he let us see that Lord Craig-Ellachie had sent him for the benefit of the company, but that _he_ had come for the benefit of the Honourable David Granton. "I'm a younger son, Sir Charles," he said; "and therefore I have to feather my nest for myself. I know the ground. My father will be guided implicitly by what I advise in the matter. We are men of the world. Now, let's be business-like. _You_ want to amalgamate. You wouldn't do that, of course, if you didn't know of something to the advantage of my father's company--say, a lode on our land--which you hope to secure for yourself by amalgamation. Very well; _I_ can make or mar your project. If you choose to render it worth my while, I'll induce my father and his directors to amalgamate. If you don't, I won't. That's the long and the short of it!" Charles looked at him admiringly. "Young man," he said, "you're deep, very deep--for your age. Is this candour--or deception? Do you mean what you say? Or do you know some reason why it suits your father's book to amalgamate as well as it suits mine? And are you trying to keep it from me?" He fingered his chin. "If I only knew that," he went on, "I should know how to deal with you." Young Granton smiled again. "You're a financier, Sir Charles," he answered. "I wonder, at your time of life, you should pause to ask another financier whether he's trying to fill his own pocket--or his father's. Whatever is my father's goes to his eldest son--and _I_ am his youngest." "You are right as to general principles," Sir Charles replied, quite affectionately. "Most sound and sensible. But how do I know you haven't bargained already in the same way with your father? You may have settled with _him_, and be trying to diddle me." The young man assumed a most candid air. "Look here," he said, leaning forward. "I offer you this chance. Take it or leave it. _Do_ you wish to purchase my aid for this amalgamation by a moderate commission on the net value of my father's option to yourself--which I know approximately?" "Say five per cent," I suggested, in a tentative voice, just to justify my presence. He looked me through and through. "_Ten_ is more usual," he answered, in a peculiar tone and with a peculiar glance. Great heavens, how I winced! I knew what his words meant. They were the very words I had said myself to Colonel Clay, as the Count von Lebenstein, about the purchase-money of the schloss--and in the very same accent. I saw through it all now. That beastly cheque! This was Colonel Clay; and he was trying to buy up my silence and assistance by the threat of exposure!