Guy came at once to the point.  Would Simon repeat his story for Alan’s enlightenment?  Simon would.  He related how, when returning from pilgrimage, he had lost his way in the Harz valley and come upon a hermitage where a very old monk lay near death.  In gratitude (Simon said) for services to him in his extremity, the hermit had revealed the secret of a rich mine of gold in the mountains.  Simon had gone to the mine, secured nuggets of the precious metal, but most unfortunately had shown them to Gregory of Hildesheim, a Templar said to be wise in the arts of alchemy and metal-working.  Gregory had seemed interested at first, but afterward had told him that the ore was not gold at all, but a cunning counterfeit devised by Satan.  He had not even returned the specimens, but had railed upon Simon for trying to pass them off as gold.  That night a heavy snowfall, the first of many, made it impossible to visit the mine again.  Now that Gregory was in England Simon wished to go again and secure more of the gold secretly.  It was scarcely possible to find the place without direction, but one man, Simon solemnly declared, could, with pick and shovel and leathern bag, bring away a fortune.

“It would be necessary,” said Guy, “to purify the gold so far as to make it into rude ingots, if it is, as you say, in the rocks and not in free lumps and particles washed down a stream.  You need a companion who understands such work.  Now, I cannot take up the matter myself, but my friend here knows enough of metals, though he is no goldsmith, to do that part of the work.  Some sort of makeshift laboratory might be arranged for that.  Then, if it is really a rich mine, we will see what can be done next.  But you will understand that I cannot be expected to undertake any work involving great expense unless I have some other proof than you can give me now.  If you will take my friend to this mine, so that he may secure ore enough to make his experiments, and I see the gold for myself, I will pay the cost of the expedition.  More than this, it seems to me, you cannot expect.”

With this Simon effusively agreed.  Alan had been watching Guy’s face with interest during the interview.  The Londoner’s usual debonair manner had become the cool decision of a man with whom it is unsafe to deal slyly.

When Simon’s back had vanished in the crowd of Chepe, Guy began rolling up papers and closing books.  “That may save you some time and trouble,” he said, “if you can stomach his company.  I do not believe, you know, that there is any gold in the ledges.  Simon knows no more of the nature of metals than Saint Anthony’s Pig.”

“What is the truth of the matter, do you think?” asked Alan.