He is going to call again
to-morrow.'
'What is his name?'
'Wentworth. Here's his card.'
'Ah, of a firm of accountants, eh? How did he come to have this?'
'He wanted to get some information about it, and I told him I would show
it to you. Here is the note he left.'
The manager turned the crystal over and over in his hand, put on his
eyeglasses and peered into it, then picked up the piece of paper and
looked at what Kenyon had written.
'Did he say where he had got this?'
'Yes; he says there is a mine of it in America.'
'In America, eh? Did he say how much of this stuff there was?
'No; he didn't tell me that. The mine is working, however.'
'It is very curious! I never heard of it.'
'I gathered from him,' said Mr. Melville, 'that he wishes to do something
with the mine over here. He did not say much, but he told me his
partner--I forget his name--was talking at the present moment with young
Longworth about it.'
'Longworth--who's he?'
'He's a man who goes in for mines or other investments; that is, his
uncle does--a very shrewd old fellow, too. He is always on the right side
of the market, no matter how it turns.'
'Then, he would be a man certain to know the value of the property if he
had it, wouldn't he?'
'I don't know anybody who knows the value of what he has better than
Longworth.'
'Ah, that's a pity,' mused the manager.
'Why? Is it a mineral of any worth?'
'Worth! A quarry of this would be better for us than a gold-mine!'
'Well, it struck me, in talking with Mr.
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