"That's a splendid fellow, that Trethick," he said. "I did think of trying to mould him, but he wants no touching, only leaving alone. Once set a man on the mining slide, there is no stopping till he gets to the bottom; and I think friend Penwynn will find the bottom of Wheal Carnac very deep." CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT. A CHAT WITH UNCLE PAUL. They were busy days for Geoffrey Trethick and his factotum Pengelly, who hardly gave himself time to rest. The visit to Mr Penwynn that next morning had resulted in the information that he had commissioned Mr Tregenna to offer a certain sum for the machinery. "And mind this, Trethick," the banker said, "you have led me into this affair, and you will have to make it pay me well." "Never fear, sir," said Geoffrey, "I'll do my best." Visits to Gwennas were rare, and Geoffrey went to and from the cottage with an abstracted air, too busy to notice that Madge looked pale and careworn, and that Uncle Paul seemed a little changed. The old man would waylay him though sometimes, poke at him with his cane, and get him into the summer-house to smoke one of the long black cheroots. "Well," he said one morning, "how are you getting along, boy? Swimmingly I suppose? I saw the water coming out at a fine rate." "Yes," said Geoffrey, "we've got all the machinery fixed as far as was necessary, and the pumping has begun." "And you are going to make my hundred pounds come back to me, eh?" "Well, not very likely," said Geoffrey, "unless you buy fresh shares of the new proprietors. What do you say?" "Bah!" exclaimed the old man; and they smoked on in silence for a time. "Might do worse," said Geoffrey. "Rubbish! I tell you it will all end in a smash-up. You get your money regularly, and don't let them have any arrears." "Oh, that's all right," said Geoffrey. "So you think there will, be another failure?" "Sure of it I shall buy that piece of ground yet for a house. Sure to fail." "So old Prawle says." "Oh, old Prawle says so, does he?" continued Uncle Paul. "Yes; and I told him the Indian file thought the same." "The _what_?" said Uncle Paul. "The Indian file--you," said Geoffrey, coolly. Uncle Paul thumped his stick on the floor, and looked daggers. "Look here, young fellow," he said, sharply, "you go a deal too much to Gwennas Cove, and it don't look well." "Haven't been half so often lately," said Geoffrey, coolly. "You go ten times too much. Look here, boy, have you seen how pale and ill that jade, Madge, looks?" "No. Yes, to be sure, I did think she looked white." "Fretting, sir, fretting. Now look here, boy, it isn't square." "What isn't?" said Geoffrey, coolly. "So much of that going to Gwennas Cove, and rescuing young women from infuriated mobs, and that sort of thing. Lady very grateful?" "Very." "Humph! Bewitched you?" "Not yet." "Humph! Going to?" "Don't know." "Damn you, Geoffrey Trethick," cried the old man, "you'd provoke a saint." "Which you are not."