"A thousand, but between ourselves they wouldn't refuse eight hundred." "No, I suppose not," said Mr Penwynn, dryly. "Look here, Tregenna, what will you spring towards having the place pumped out, quietly you know, to see if there's any truth in your fellow's assertion?" Tregenna sat tapping the table with his fingers, and he did not reply. "You don't seem to rise at that fly," said Mr Penwynn, laughing. "I was thinking whether I could get them to advance fifty pounds for the purpose; but they're so poor, and if they would it could only be on some undertaking to buy. I tell you what, Penwynn, I haven't much faith in the fellow's statement proving correct--I believe, mind you, he's an honest fellow, but he may have been mistaken--in fact I haven't much faith in any thing now," he continued dismally; "but I tell you what I'll do; I'll stand fifty to your fifty to examine the place properly before you do any thing else, on one condition." "What's that?" "That if it turns out a failure and you don't buy, you'll make that fifty up to me out of something else--that you won't let me be the loser." "What else?" Tregenna laughed. "There's no doing you, Penwynn, with an assumption of modesty. There, frankly, I want something more off it. If it turns out a good thing you will come down handsome." "I will," said Mr Penwynn. "You leave that to my honour, and I will." Tregenna screwed up his face a little. "That's rather vague, my dear sir," he said. "Well, vague or no, what do you want?" "A thousand pounds." "A thousand grandmothers," said Mr Penwynn, pettishly. "Well, that's not unreasonable," said Tregenna. "I suppose--well, we won't suppose, but put it in plain figures--if that mine should turn out well--" "Which it will not." "Well, it is the merest chance, but I say if it does turn out well, I shall have ten per cent of its market value two years hence." "Done," said Mr Penwynn, holding out his hand. "Agreed," said Tregenna, grasping it. "Now write a memo to that effect." "Isn't it premature rather, seeing that I have decided nothing?" "Well, perhaps it is," said Tregenna, taking out his watch. "I must be off. Think the matter over for a few days. Shall I keep it quiet, or try elsewhere?" "Try elsewhere if you like," said Mr Penwynn, carelessly. "All right. Good-morning," said Tregenna. "My kind regards at home." Mr Penwynn nodded, and Tregenna went out, nodded to Chynoweth, who was shutting down his desk-lid over a hand of whist, and then walked swiftly away, muttering one word-- "Hooked!" CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR. HUNTING A WITCH. Geoffrey strode right across the heather and stones to Horton mine, bent upon, if possible, securing the services of Pengelly if they were to be had. If not, he felt bound to take counsel with him, and let him know his every step. The manager was at his office, and welcomed Geoffrey in a very friendly way.