"Wheal Carnac? Oh, yes," said a little, sharp-looking grey man. "We-- that is--an agent from this house purchased it;" and he looked curiously at Geoffrey. "For a client of yours, I presume?" said Geoffrey. "Certainly you may presume so if you like, sir," said the little lawyer. "And possibly he would be ready to part with his purchase for a small profit over what he gave?" "Possibly he might, my dear sir," said the lawyer; "but I don't think it is very probable." "May I ask why?" said Geoffrey. "No, sir," said the solicitor, smiling. "Well, there, I will admit that. Because our client--another admission you see, sir--I say because our client is a gentleman, who would not be tempted by a small profit. If you wish to buy, sir, you will have to give a handsome bonus for the purchase." "How much?" said Geoffrey, bluntly. "Impossible to say, my dear sir," said the solicitor. "I do not even know that our client would sell. In fact I do not believe he would. His name? Oh, no, I cannot give you his name." Geoffrey had the name of the firm down in his pocket-book, and as he stepped out into noisy Fleet Street he felt that he could do no more. There was nothing left for him but to go back to Carnac and tell old Prawle of his ill success. Then, perhaps, the old man would say to what extent he would go, and the place might, probably, be obtained by private contract. Geoffrey went to an hotel, had a few hours' rest and refreshment, and once more he was being hurried to the little mining town, where he arrived this time without adventure, bitter with disappointment, and seeing endless advantages in the possession of the mine now that it was gone from him forever. So enraged was he at the result of his journey that he could not bear to look at the mine as he walked towards Gwennas, but rigorously turned his eyes aside. He had walked as far as the ruined pit when he started, for he heard his name pronounced, and, turning, there stood old Prawle, waiting to intercept him on his return. "Now then," he said, excitedly. "How much did you have to give, my lad? Quick! How much?" "I have not bought the mine," said Geoffrey. "What?" cried the old man, furiously; and his weather-beaten countenance turned of a curious hue. "I told you to buy her, no matter what price." "There was an accident to the train. The mine was sold before I got there." "Sold!" cried the old man, with an oath. "Why didn't you walk on?" "Two hundred miles in eight hours," said Geoffrey, grimly. "Why didn't you write or--or send?" "I tried all; I thought of all; I spared no pains, Father Prawle," said Geoffrey, commiserating, the old man's disappointment. "You could not have saved it had you gone yourself." "But it was a fortune; it was a great fortune," cried the old man, stamping with rage. "No, no," cried Geoffrey. "You might perhaps have made a little by it, or we might perhaps have hit upon some plan to get at the tin; but it was doubtful."