In a few minutes the expert entered with three other gentlemen, the expert carrying a small bag, bound with a cord and sealed in half a dozen different places. Cupell welcomed the party, and then presented Jefferson Jones. Jones did not pay much attention to the Boston men, nor to Bates, the expert, but he gave more than casual attention to Mr. Horace Montgomery. “Why do you wish to see this assay, Mr. Jones?” asked Montgomery. “Merely to satisfy myself as to the value of the Royal Ophir mine.” “With a view to investing?” “That remains to be seen.” “I don’t think there will be any chance for you. The Royal Ophir, I am satisfied, is a good thing, and myself and these other two gentlemen want it all to ourselves.” A slight smile wreathed about the lips of Jefferson Jones. “I suppose you won’t object to letting me see the assay made?” he asked. “Certainly not; only don’t deceive yourself with false hopes, that’s all.” Bates, the expert, here interjected a few remarks. “This is the Royal Ophir ore, gentlemen,” said he. “I took a fair sample from the main vein of the mine, sacked and sealed it on the spot, and the sample was not out of my hands until deposited in the bank, from which we just took it. “I will take an oath that it has not been tampered with in any way. On the result of this assay I assure you that you can spend one million, or ten millions, and be perfectly confident that you are going into the deal with your eyes open. “There, Mr. Cupell.” The expert handed the sack to the assayer. “It is understood that we are all to be present during the assaying.” “That is my understanding,” said Cupell. “This way, gentlemen.” He opened a door leading into one of the workrooms. A dark-faced young man of twenty or thereabouts, wearing a white apron and smoking a cigarette, was busying himself about the room. On an iron slab Cupell opened the ore sack and emptied the pieces of ore out on the slab for general inspection. Jefferson Jones, Montgomery and the two Boston men began to look at the samples. “I don’t think you ought to touch this rock, gentlemen,” said Cupell. Examination of the ore was instantly stopped. “I don’t think any of us would put ‘salt’ into this proposition,” said Montgomery. But, even as he spoke, he cast a suspicious look at Jones, of Albany. Jones looked innocent enough. Humming to himself and holding his hands behind him, he was giving his attention to the strange instruments arranged around the room. Suddenly he asked if there was any drinking water about the place. Cupell told him he would find a water cooler in the office. Jones sauntered into the office, took a drink, and then passed into the hall. “Here, Chick,” he said to somebody who was waiting there, “take this to Clarkson, around the corner on Sixth Avenue, and have him rush the assay through.” “Sure.” “Then wait for me downstairs.” “I’ll be there.”