Chapter XXI

When John Kenyon entered the office of his friend next morning, Wentworth said to him:

'Well, what luck with the Longworths?'

'No luck at all,' was the answer; 'the young man seemed to have forgotten all about our conversation on board the steamer, and the old gentleman takes no interest in the matter.'

Wentworth hemmed and tapped on the desk with the end of his lead pencil.

'I never counted much on that young fellow,' he said at last. 'What appeared to be his reason?'

'I don't know exactly. He didn't give any reason. He merely said that he would have nothing to do with it, after having got me to tell him what our option on the mine was.'

'Why did you tell him that?'

'Well, it seemed, after I had talked to him a little, that there was some hope of his going in with us. I told him point-blank that I didn't care to say at what figure we had the option unless he was going in with us. He said of course he couldn't consider the matter at all unless he knew to what he was committed; and so I told him.'

'And what excuse did he make for not joining us?'

'Oh, he merely said he thought he would have nothing to do with it.'

'Now, what do you imagine his object was in pumping you if he had no intention of taking an interest in the mine?'

'I'm sure I don't know. I do not understand that sort of man at all. In fact, I feel rather relieved he is going to have nothing to do with it. I distrust him.'

'That's all very well, John, you are prejudiced against him; but you know the name of Longworth would have a very great effect upon the minds of other City men. If we can get the Longworths into this, even for a small amount, I am certain that we shall have very little trouble in floating the company.'

'Well, all I can say is, my mission to the Longworths was a failure. Have you looked over the papers?'

'Oh yes, and that reminds me. The point on which the whole scheme turns is the availability of the mineral for the making of china, isn't it?'

'That is so.'

'Well, look at this letter; it came this morning.'

He tossed the letter over to Kenyon, who read it, and then asked:

'Who's Adam Brand? He doesn't know what he is talking about.'

'Ah, but the trouble is that he does. No man in England better, I should imagine. He is the manager and part owner of the big Scranton china works. I went to see Melville of that company yesterday. He could tell me nothing about the mineral, but kept the specimen I gave him, and told me he would show it to the manager when he came in. Brand is the manager of the works, and if anybody knows the value of the mineral, he ought to be the man.'

'Nevertheless,' said Kenyon, 'he is mistaken.'

'That is just the point of the whole matter--is he? The mineral is either valueless, as he says, or he is telling a deliberate