Here all was confusion--lights were flashing, steam was hissing, and the shouts of the guards and engine-drivers were mingled with the cries and shrieks of the passengers, many of whom were imprisoned in the broken carriages, and some time elapsed before they could be set free. It was the old story--a luggage train was being shunted and not sufficient time allowed, with the result that the fast night train had dashed at full speed into the goods trucks, and they and the brake-van formed a pile upon which the engine of the fast train seemed to have made an effort to climb; and then, defeated, the monster had fallen right over upon its side, setting fire to the trucks upon which it had dashed. Fortunately the speed at which they had been going seemed to have saved the passengers. There were bruises and cuts without number, but no serious injury to person. The train, though, was in a state of chaos; both lines were badly blocked, and when Geoffrey could get an answer to a question, the reply was not encouraging, for he was told that at least six hours must elapse before he could go on. The six expanded themselves into eight, and the consequence was that all Geoffrey's plans were overset. The probability now was that he would not reach town until the sale was over, and, by a strange reversal, what he had looked upon as worthless the day before, now grew into a thing of such value that he was ready to make any sacrifice to carry out his commission in its entirety. He was in a peculiar position, for he could not telegraph to the auctioneer to appoint an agent to bid for him, for he was not able to say to what price he would go. Old Prawle had left it to him, but even then he could not say "Bid so much." Every thing must depend on what took place, and, under the circumstances, he felt that there was nothing for it but to make the best of his way there on the chance of being in time; London at last, and, without waiting a moment, he jumped into a cab, and bade the man drive to the city. It is a long drive from Paddington to the Mart, and when he reached the place and had seen in which room the sale was to take place, he ran up to find another sale going on. Wheal Carnac had been up nearly an hour before. After a little searching he found the auctioneer. "Wheal Carnac was bought in, I suppose?" said Geoffrey, carelessly. "No, sir, not this time," said the auctioneer. "That mine's an old friend here, but it has found a purchaser once more." "Did it make much?" said Geoffrey, hoarsely. "Went for a song. Not half the value of the machinery." Geoffrey bit his lip. "Who bought it?" "Can't say, sir. Or, stop a moment. Yes, of course," he said, referring to his books. "It is a firm of solicitors. Agents for the real purchaser, I suppose." Geoffrey obtained the name of the firm of solicitors, found it was in Serjeant's Inn, and went straight there, asked for the principal, and was shown in.