"Exactly! So now then, as soon as possible, we must begin to feel our way, so as to secure our man." "But if there is not such a man to be had?" "Then we must make one." "Wrigley, I thought I was sharp," said Jessop, with a peculiar smile. "But you find there is always a sharper." "Was that a _lapsus linguae_, Wrigley?" "If you like to call it so," said the lawyer coldly. "But to business. Let me know the moment your brother gets back." "Yes, but why?" "I am going down to see what I think of the mine." CHAPTER TEN. THE GRIM VISITOR. "The game's up, then, Doctor, eh? There, man, don't shuffle. This isn't whist, but the game of life, and nature wins." The Doctor stood holding his old friend's hand, and gazing sadly down in the fine manly face, which looked wonderfully calm and peaceful as he lay back on the white pillow. "That's right; don't say medical things to me--clap-trap: you never did. We always understand each other, and I shouldn't like it now I'm dying. For that's it, Praed; the game's up. I haven't read so plainly how many trumps you held in your hand for all these years, old man, without being able to judge your face now." "Reed, old fellow," said the Doctor, in a voice full of emotion, "God knows I have done my best. Let me send for--" "Tchah! What for?" said the old man. "You know more than he does. It's of no use fighting against it. Nature says the works must stop soon. Very well; I shall meet it as I have met other losses in my time. Do you hear, Clive--Jessop?" A murmur came from the other side of the bed, where the two young men were standing, and then all was still again, save the rumble of a vehicle in the street. "It's disappointing just now, when I had made the _coup_ of my life, and meant to settle down in peace; but it wasn't to be, and I'm going to meet it like a man. Clive, boy, come here." The young man came to the bedside and knelt down. "Ah! I like that," said the old father. "Good lad!" and he laid his hand gently upon his son's head. "I'm not a grand old patriarch," he sighed. "What, Doctor?--not talk? Yes, I must have my say now, while there's time. Not a good old patriarch, Clive--not a religious man; made too much of a god of money; but I said my wife and sons should never know the poverty from which I had suffered, and I think it was right; but I overdid it, boy. Don't follow my example; there's no need. There--my blessing for what it's worth, boy. Now go: I want Jessop." Clive rose, and his brother came and stood where he had knelt. "Well," said the dying man, in a firm voice, "I have little to say to you, Jessop. Shake hands, my boy, and God forgive you, as I do-- everything." Jessop was silent, and after a few moments the old man went on-- "I have settled everything, my lad. The Doctor here is one of my executors, and he will see that Clive does his duty by you; though he would without."