"No," he said, "I shall wait; and if you value my acquaintance, or friendship, if you like to call it so, I beg that you will say nothing to a soul upon my behalf." The vicar sighed, but he allowed himself to be swayed by Geoffrey, whom he feared to tell of his suspicions concerning the state of affairs at An Morlock, for he could not help seeing how rapidly John Tregenna was becoming Mr Penwynn's master, and how helplessly the banker was drifting to a bitter end. Geoffrey's old blackened meerschaum used to be brought out, and as he leisurely smoked he used to think of all that had taken place since his first arrival in Carnac, and wonder whether he had been wanting in any way in his duties to those who had intrusted him with so important a task. He was seated there one morning when, in the midst of the reverie in which he was indulging, he was interrupted by the sound of footsteps, and, looking up, he saw old Prawle approaching and beckoning to him in a mysterious fashion. "What's the matter?" said Geoffrey, starting up. "I want you," whispered the old man, though probably there was not a soul within half a mile. "Well, what do you want?" "Business--particular business. Come down to my place and talk." "Why, can't you talk here?" said Geoffrey, gruffly. "No, no. Come to my place." Soured, disappointed, and out of humour, Geoffrey was on the point of declining; but the old man had manifested so kindly a disposition towards him of late that he followed him without another word along the cliff to the Cove, where they descended the rough stairs to the bit of a cave; where the old man, instead of producing brandy and tobacco as Geoffrey expected, took down an old ship's lantern, saw that it was well trimmed, placed some matches inside, and then placed it inside his rough jacket. "Wait a bit," he said, "and I'll show you;" and he laughed audibly. "Look here. You carry this compass," he continued, taking one from a shelf. "But what do you want? What are you going to do?" said Geoffrey. "I'll tell you soon," said the old man. "I've been talking it over with my Bessie, and she says I may trust you, and that I am to do it. I haven't lived to my time for nothing." "I'm much obliged to Miss Bessie for her trust," said Geoffrey bitterly; "but what is it? Are you going to dig up some of your old hoards of money?" "No, no; no, no," chuckled the old fellow, grimly. "I don't bury my money. I know what I'm about. Come along." Geoffrey followed him down the rest of the rough way to the rocky shore, where the old man's boat was lying, and between them they ran her out into the tiny harbour, formed by a few jutting pieces of rock, got in, and, after arranging some great boulders as ballast, old Prawle was about to take both sculls, when Geoffrey took one. "Here, I'll pull as well," he said. "I want work."