I returned to London as soon as my business was arranged in San Francisco. The boom times were still on. Speculation was running mad. I was a trifle chagrined at losing the best property I had bonded through the stubbornness of Baron Grant. This was the famous Raymond and Ely mine. By the payment of $10,000 I had secured an option on this famous property for sixty days for $900,000. I had cabled Grant about Raymond and Ely, in order to hasten arrangements, as the time was short. He answered that nothing short of 90 days’ option should be considered. I tried to secure an extension, but was turned down. While we were see-sawing over this and time was slipping by, the company offered to return my $10,000 and let the option drop. Under the conditions, I accepted the tender. Just a week later the Raymond and Ely bonanza was uncovered, yielding millions in dividends. After that no one could purchase it at any price. Whether the owners really knew anything about this tremendous “strike” when they so generously tendered me the return of my $10,000 deposit the reader can guess as well as I. But that was a small matter, I had so many shots in my locker. Among these was the famous North Bloomfield hydraulic mine. I had an option on it for $600,000. In my judgment, which afterwards came true, it was worth at least five times as much. One of the principal owners, Samuel F. Butterworth, followed me to England. Talking of Baron Grant and his power of fascination, I introduced him to Butterworth, who was an able man, but cold and unemotional as fate, and after a ten minutes’ talk the Baron had him spellbound. “There never was a human being like him,” said Butterworth as we retired. Baron Grant was measurably glad to see me, but not so cordial as the circumstances led me to expect. I spoke to him about the North Bloomfield mine and my desire to have the proposition laid before the public without unnecessary delay, but he seemed singularly backward. At last the cat escaped from the bag. He had violated his written contract by agreeing to bring out another mining exploitation, ahead of mine. But my indignation at his absolute lack of faith was nothing compared with my astonishment--almost horror--when he told me that the property he proposed to unload on the British public for a million pounds sterling was none other than the Emma mine.