The Vicar's People Part 41

"If they see us from the harbour, what will they think?" said Geoffrey.

"That we are ghosts or demons, the weak creatures," cried Pengelly, scornfully. "It will keep them away: not a man will come near if they see our light. Keep this way, sir, you are getting too near the shaft."

Geoffrey hastily altered his position, and closely following Pengelly he entered the great engine-house behind him, and then stood waiting while the lame miner struck a match, which blazed up, and then he dropped it, for there, plainly seen in the momentary glare, stood a dark, strange-looking figure, within a few feet of a heap of stones.

In spite of his manhood, Geoffrey felt a chill run through him, for seen in that momentary light the aspect of the figure was so weird and strange.

"It's only a man!" exclaimed Pengelly, rapidly striking a second match, and holding it to the candle in the lantern. "Hey, Master Prawle! what are you doing here?"

As he spoke he threw the light full upon the old smuggler's rugged features, Prawle growling the while as he began to fill a blackened pipe.

"What am I doing here, Amos Pengelly? Why, filling my pipe."

"And playing ghost to frighten honest men, Prawle, eh? I say, old fellow," cried Geoffrey, "we've got you on the right spot, so you may as well speak out all you know."

"All I know?" said Prawle. "I don't know nothing, only that I come for a walk, and stepped in here to light my pipe."

"Light your pipe, eh?" cried Geoffrey, laughing.

"Yes," said Prawle, spitefully, "and found you courting."

"Found me?" exclaimed Geoffrey. "Why, I've been with Amos Pengelly these two hours. Eh, Amos?"

"Ah, well, if it warn't you it were somebody else. What do you want here?" growled the old fellow.

"Oh! we've come in to light our pipes," said Geoffrey, laughing.

Prawle growled, and, after a furtive look round, turned to go.

"Warn't you two here 'bout two hour ago?" he said, sharply.

"No; neither of us," replied Geoffrey. "But come, Prawle, let us two be a little more friendly. Why can't you speak out? If you will be frank and honest with me, I'll make it worth your while."

"I don't want you to make it worth no whiles of mine," growled Prawle.

"I can get my living, I dessay."

"Of course you can, man; but other people have got to get theirs. Sit down now, and let's have a talk. Let's hear all you know about the mine."

"What mine? This mine? Wheal Carnac?" said Prawle, quickly. "Nothing; nothing at all. Only everybody's ruined who takes it. Why?"

"Only that I'm going to work it," said Geoffrey, "and it might be worth your while to tell me all you know."

"Work it? You going to work it?" cried Prawle, eagerly. "You?"

"Yes: I," said Geoffrey. "Now then, what do you say? Will you help me?"

The old man stood scowling and blinking at them in the dim light shed by the lantern, and as his eyes rested upon Geoffrey they seemed less fierce in their gaze; but his face grew very rugged again, as he exclaimed,--

"I can't help you. I know nothing about the place. What are you going to do? When are you going to begin?"

"My dear Mr Prawle," said Geoffrey, "I invited you to cooperate with me, and you declined. Now will you allow me to show you the door.

Pengelly, let me hold the lantern for Mr Prawle to see his way. Pray take care, Mr Prawle, and don't make a mistake about the shaft. It is not fenced in. Your life is valuable, you know. Good-night."

Geoffrey smilingly held the lantern for the old man to see his way, and Prawle looked at him in a puzzled fashion, as if not knowing what to make of his speech. One moment he seemed disposed to resent it; the next he took it in good part, and, as he got outside, after looking suspiciously from one to the other, he said, hastily, as if ashamed of his weakness,--

"I don't want to quarrel, but don't you have nothing to do with this pit. It's a bad un--a bad un, and has ruined scores. Thanky for helping my Bess."

The next moment he was gone.

"Pleasant style of man, your father-in-law-to-be, Pengelly," said Geoffrey, coolly, as he returned with the miner into the engine-house.

"What was he doing here?"

"I can't quite make out, sir," said Pengelly, thoughtfully. "He always was fond of hanging about here of a night, as if jealous that any one should notice the place."

"Bit of smuggling--hiding-place?" suggested Geoffrey.

"I've thought that sometimes, sir, and sometimes I've thought there was another reason. He's a strange old fellow in his ways."

"Yes, there's no doubt about that," said Geoffrey. "But what have you got there?"

Pengelly had just stooped and picked up a fragment of stone, which glittered as he held it to the lantern.

"Bit o' tin, sir, and I was wondering how it come here."

Geoffrey took the piece of rough ore and examined it.

"Why, it is perfectly fresh," he said. "That fracture has been made quite lately."

"Yes," said Pengelly, nodding, "it's quite new, sir. The old man knows more than he'll own to. He's been chipping about here to-night with a hammer; I know, and this is some of his work."

They looked about amongst the _debris_, but could find nothing more for some time, till, climbing a little way up the heap of granite sc.r.a.ps that had been evidently dislodged when the machinery was moved, Pengelly uttered an exclamation.

"What have you found?" cried Geoffrey, as he saw the miner hold down the light.

"It's what I said, sir," exclaimed Pengelly. "Look, sir, he's been chipping and hammering here. Depend upon it the old man knows the mine's rich."

"But he wouldn't be chipping the old stones here," said Geoffrey, examining the fragments, which looked as if some one had been hammering up some pieces of ore.

"It's some he found and brought in," said Pengelly. "He's a regular old fox, sir, and you see by and by when he finds we are going right, if he don't come to us--to you I mean, sir--and offer to sell what he knows."

"And, perhaps, by that time we shall have found it out. Eh, Pengelly?"

"We'll try, sir," replied the miner; and then together they had a good look round the place, making plans for the fixing of the necessary machinery, Geoffrey growing more and more satisfied with the earnestness and sagacity of his companion, who seemed to throw himself heart and soul into the work in hand. Then, after appointing to meet in good time the next morning, they made their way back to the cliff and separated.

"This has been an eventful day," said Geoffrey, as, after softly letting himself in with the key that he had taken, he quietly took off his heavy boots, and, slippers in hand, stole up-stairs to his bedroom.

As he reached the door, however, a faint sob reached his ear, and as he stood listening it was very evident that some one was in grievous trouble, sobbing and crying as if her heart would break.

"That must be Miss Madge!" said Geoffrey to himself. "Poor wench! the course of her true love does not seem to run very smooth. Well, I can't comfort her, and they say that a good cry always does a woman good. So, my dear, you must have your good cry and get better. I'm afraid that women are very silly things if they are not sisters or mothers."