“I am not Mr. Whymper’s man at all,” observed Richard, coolly.  “Mr. Whymper is my man—­or at least he will be one day or another.”

“How so?” inquired the landlord, his eyes at their full stretch, his mouth agape, and his neglected pipe in his right hand.  “Who, in the Fiend’s name, are you?”

“I am the only son and heir of Carew of Crompton,” answered the young man, deliberately.

“You?  Why, Carew never had a son,” exclaimed Trevethick, incredulously; “leastways, not a lawful one.  He was married once to a wench of the name of Hardcastle, ’tis true; but that was put aside.”

“I tell you I am Carew’s lawful son, nevertheless,” persisted Richard.  “My mother was privately married to him.  Ask Parson Whymper, and he will tell you the same.  It is true that my father has not acknowledged me, but I shall have my rights some day—­and Wheal Danes along with the rest.”

The news of the young man’s paternity must have been sufficiently startling to him who thus received it for the first time, and would, under any other circumstances, have doubtless excited his phlegmatic nature to the utmost; but what concerns ourselves in even a slight degree is, with some of us, more absorbing than the most vital interests of another; and thus it was with Trevethick.  The ambitious pretensions of his lodger sank into insignificance—­notwithstanding that, for the moment, he believed in them; for how, unless he was what he professed to be, could he know so much?—­before the disappointment which had befallen himself in the overthrow of a long-cherished scheme.

“Why, Mr. Whymper wrote me with his own hand,” growled he, “that in his judgment the mine was worthless, and that he had done all he could to persuade the Squire to sell.  And yet you come down here to gauge and spy.”

“All stratagems are fair in war and business,” answered the young man, smiling.  “Come, Mr. Trevethick; whatever reasons may have brought me here, I assure you, upon my honor, that they do not weigh with me now, in comparison with the great regard I feel for you and yours.  If you will be frank with me, I will also be so with you; and let me say this at the outset, that nothing which may drop from your lips shall be made use of to prejudice your interests.  I have gathered this much for myself, that Wheal—­”

“Hush, Sir! for any sake, hush!” implored the landlord, earnestly, and holding up his huge hand for silence.  “Do not give it a name again; there is some one moving above stairs.”

“It is only Solomon,” observed Richard, quietly.

“I don’t want Sol nor any other man alive to hear what we are talking about, Mr. Yorke,” answered Trevethick, hoarsely.  “You have gathered for yourself, you were about to say, that the mine is rich, and well worth what I have offered for it.”

“And a good deal more,” interrupted Richard.  “Perhaps a hundred times, perhaps a thousand times as much.  We don’t make so close a secret of a matter without our reasons.  We don’t see Dead Hands, with flames of fire at the finger-tips, going up and down ladders that don’t exist, without the most excellent reasons, Mr. Trevethick.  What we wish no eye to see, nay, no ear to hear spoken of, is probably a subject of considerable private importance to ourselves.  Come, we are friends here together; I say again, let us be frank.”