The Salving of a Derelict.

Ashburton Guardian, Volume XXVIII, Issue 7069, 7 January 1907, Page 4

The Salving of a Derelict.

(P>y Maurice Drake.)

CHAPTER XI

(Continued.)

This is not the class of crib I want,' he told the driver. 'I want a little, cheap jeweller's and watch repairer's, where they sell Brummagem goods. And if it's kept by a Jew, so much the better. He won't exaggerate values if he thinks I want to sell,' he added himself. The cabman reflected a moment. Right 0, sir!' he said. 'I fancy I know the clawss of plyce you mean. Jump in, sir.' He drove up Tottenham Court Road, turning to the ltft this time, and halting before just such a shop as Laurence had watches hung in its low-browed front, and the shelving slope beneath them was sparsely covered with little ornaments of the same metal, mostly cross-shaped brooches, with an occasional crucifix 01 two here and there among them. Laurence entered. 'Do you buy malachite?' ho asked of a man seated behind the counter. The shopman removed 3 watchmaker's glass from his eye and stood up, carefully gathering together the corners of his leather apron with one hand as ho did so. He turned one ear towards Laurence. 'Eh? What sye?' he asked, with the ourest Cockney accent. 'Do —you —bu^r —malachite ?' Laurence almost shouted. He. shook his head. 'Not much nowadays. There ain't no demand for it in ihe south. They sell more north—in the ,-nanufacturin' districts.'

'What's its value?' 'I 'ardly know —'olesyle. In the old .lyes, when it was all Eussian malachite ;in' fashionable, it used to be worth nve-m'-twenty bob a paund. Xah they get t from Austrylier—and the price is gone dahn 'orrible. I wouldn't give yer -nore'n five shillings a pahnd for it. 'Ow uuch 'aye yer got ter sell?* Laurence extracted the fragment from iis pocket and handed it over the counter. 'This all?' H» threw it into a scale, .vhere it just turned the quarter-pound. Give yer a tanner for it. Yer see, it'll ose 'art' its weight in cuttin' and polishin' -an' there ain't but little demand ' •I wouldn't sell it for twenty pounds!' Laurence cried. 'Then yer must be balmy,' the man said •almly sitting down and resuming his rlass. 'I don't mind springin' tuppence nore, but ' His voice died away into an incoherent whine behind Laurence's fleeting footsteps. He almost danced across the mvement to his cab. 'Cabby,' he said; 'this is an occasion. You drive* me where I can get a great, 'ong, beautiful drink. And you're to have one, too. Forty, if you like.' The man grinned. 'If I like, si*. Wotto! But 'oo'll look after my keb?' 'Never mind the cab. I'll buy it. f-lurry up, and drive mo where I can get a decent drink. That's your job. Skip!' He drank a whisky and soda at a gulp, vnd sent another out to th© cabman, bidling him wait. On the back of an en- • elope he made a lew rough calculations n pencil, and then ordered another drink whilst he checked Jris figure*. 'Five-bob a- pound—call it four. Fourwb a pound is a hundred and twelve limes four bob for a hundredweight. i''raps it's Troy, though. A hundred imes lour bob—that's twenty quid. Twenty times twenty quitd is four hun(rcd. Saints above us! Foxir hundred [uid a ton. Why didn't J Jjve in the happy days before Australian goods spoilt the market—when it was twenty-five bob

. pound? . .- . Never mind; enough's ts good as a feast. Four hundred quid i ton, less expenses of quarrying and '1 eight! Call it three hundred quid, just for fun. And perhaps this chap was oluffing. He sprung twopence when I wouldn't sell, bless his heart. Here's o him. I must have ono more drink .vhilst I make sure I'm not making a ool's paradise" for myself. . . . Oh, to! and not two hours ago I wrote Clonent Harper to keep my place in tho ofJce open for a fortnight longer. - I'll .vire him to go to Blazes No, f won't, though. If he hadn't sold this ground to my father p'raps I should never have gone to Utfrlid —never have kicked iff this precious .souvenir of woe. Besides, I should never have got to sea at ill. . . . 'How am I to get hold of those shares ? Don't suppose they're worth a cent, marKefc price, now. I must go slow —devilish slow. Mighty bad job for me if anybody smells a rat. And there'll be guinea-pig shares, too. Bought at a quid and chucked into the wastepaper basket most likely. But I'll get them easily enough. Rich son of bankrupt father desires to make amends. . . . The

thieves'. They'll grin, I b&t. . . But they'll grin the wrong side of their mouths when My dynamite has blown My lava to glory, and My winches are hoisting My malachite out on the quayside—My quayside, too, perhaps, after a bit. And My Marion shall wear this My precious sample in the middle of a diamond tarara as big as the Marble Arch. . . . That rotten whisky's laying hold of me. I'll go home and dress for dinner and wire- Pat to come. I shall bo able to ask him questions about the shareholders — must be careful, though. It won't do to give tho show away.' He sent tho wire, but on the way homo »ji nwful fear laid hold on him. Supposing the vein or lode, or whatever the deposit ought to bo called, wcro only a tiny patch But the. memory of the tumbled heap of fragments beneath Uthlid rock somehow reassured him. There must bo more below. A surface deposit would have crumbled into thinner pioces. He wished he had asked tho geologist for his explanation al over again. He remembered something about 'copper .sulphates.' That must mean a combination of copper and "sulphur. Sulphur! What was it Harper had said at the inquiry two years ago? 'Sulphur. Not a spook.' Well —ho was wrong, then. Where there were sulphates thoro must bo sulphur to make 'em. But that was a geologist's affair, anyway.

And even though the deposit should provo small, surely there might be a deal to bo done in the shares somehow. Worth/ess paper ought to jump to some sort of a. price on the evidence he had beforehim. If :he could cornel' the lot afc a low price and then have a look at the stuff, vvith some practical man, whether it turned out well or no he surely could get the shares off his hands with profit. Even if I have to salt Iho claim,' he said to himself. On reaching homo he gave the cabman half a sovereign and ascended tho stairs. His heart leapt at tho sight of his open door; and he ran in to find his guest At lunch seated by tho open window, a table covered with empty tea things standing beside her. Sho rose as ho entered, a. friendly Bniilu upon her tpco. 'You're more than punctual,' sho said. The porter told me you'd'-be back by six, but it wants a quarter of an hour of that yet.' Though wisdom warned him to put a guard upon his ieet and his tongue, the oxcitement of tho a f tor noon and tho drinks ho hail so speedily absorbed betrayed him. Hi 6 eyes wore bright and his t'tej) light and carelw a-j hs witue to

the window. He took her hand and bent over her closely—too closely. 'I —l've had great news,' he said. 'Glorious news—a great stroke of luck !' and looked in her face for an answering smile. Sho hardened into dignity at once. 'I'm glad to hear it. And now, will you please let me have my purse? lam in a hurry.' He saw his mistake; and, fatal error! made a bad matter worse by remonstrating. 'But yon can't be. Stay here awhile. You can't imagine how good it is to see you having tea in these rooms—and besides ' 'Will you kindly let me have my purse?' Her face was as impassive as a statute's. | 'Yes—of course-. In a minute; it's only m the next room. But do sit down. I tvant to talk to you. I ' 'My purse!' Laurence himself could have given the order Avith no moro of curt authority. •But ' 'Will you get my purse, or shall I call the hall porter?' she demanded, flushed with anger, stamping her Jittle foot. (To be continuccf.)