“I can tell you about the Quest Gold Mine,” volunteered the gray-haired man. “I, too, invested in it. Twenty-five thousand dollars, some thirty years ago, when it appeared to be a good gamble.
“Then funds failed” — Laspar paused reminiscently — “and the Quest mine was abandoned. Ten years — twelve years — passed. The mine was forgotten. The company needed funds, in order to exist as a corporation. Your uncle prevailed upon me to supply them.”
“You bought more stock?” queried Rex, in surprise.
“No,” replied Laspar, “I simply purchased the timber rights to the land on which the Quest mine is located. The tract borders on Lake Chalice, in Michigan. I bought some acreage on the opposite side of the lake and started a lumber camp there. I have been paying for the timber rights to the Quest mine tract; but as yet, I have not begun to clear it.”
“Then the mine might be worked again?”
“Not a chance of it! The very site of the shaft is gone. My foresters, surveying the ground less than a year ago, could find no trace of it. Somewhere, lost in an area of several hundred acres, is the forgotten shaft of the closed mine.”
Witherby nodded in corroboration of Laspar’s statement. Rex Brodford was about to speak when Laspar forestalled him.
“I KNOW what you are thinking,” remarked the lumber magnate, with a smile. “It would still be possible to excavate in hope of striking the old shaft. But that would be a costly process; and furthermore, recent events would prove it useless.”
“Recent events?” queried Rex.
“Yes,” nodded Laspar. “A few years ago, a new company purchased a large acreage adjoining the property of the Quest mine. This new concern — called the Chalice Gold Mine — has spent a fortune digging a shaft of its own. No results were gained, and the mine fell into the hands of shrewd swindlers who have been selling worthless stock.
“One man” — Laspar shook his head sadly at the thought — “even came to me with his worthless proposition. This fellow was a rascal named Jubal. He was calling on the old purchasers of Quest stock, trying to sell them shares in the Chalice mine. He had the nerve to think that people who had been foolish once would be foolish always.”
“Suckers often bite twice,” cackled Witherby.
“Thank you,” chuckled Laspar blandly. “I was one who did not. I practically threw this swindler Jubal out of my office. He never returned after that one visit. As for the Chalice mine, it is on the edge of failure. The company burrowed shaft after shaft without digging up a lump of pay dirt.”
“Which proves,” suggested Rex, “that the territory about Lake Chalice has no gold.”
“No,” said Laspar, “not entirely. Some worthwhile ore was mined in the old Quest mine during the early days of its operation. Yet the mine failed. Cold facts prove the inadvisability of new attempts in that district.”
As he finished speaking, Laspar glanced at his watch. He replaced the timepiece in his pocket and stepped to a corner where his hat and coat were lying.
“Almost train time,” the gray-haired man commented. He extended his hand to Rex Brodford. “I am leaving; but I hope to see you again in the near future. Should you find opportunity to come out to Michigan, visit me at my lodge on Lake Chalice.”
“And look over the Quest mine land?” laughed Rex.
“Yes,” responded Laspar. “The surface of it, at least, is under my jurisdiction. You will be free to roam the timber land as you please.”
Laspar shook hands with Witherby. Rex and the lawyer accompanied the lumber magnate to the door.
Firth appeared and started ahead, stating that he would call a cab. Laspar shook his head, remarking that he would have sufficient time to walk to the avenue.
WITH Laspar gone, Rex and Witherby returned to the library. The attorney began to go over the items in the lists of the estate. He noticed that Rex was not attending. Witherby spoke sharply, almost querulously.
“Perhaps we should leave these matters until later,” was his sour comment. The lawyer arose as he spoke and shoved the papers back into the portfolio. “Come to my office, after I have talked with the other administrators. I can then supply you with funds from the estate.”
“Sorry, Mr. Witherby,” returned Rex, following the lawyer through the curtained door. “I was thinking of a matter that we had mentioned. It occupied my full thoughts.”
“The Quest Gold Mine?” Witherby’s sharp query came when they had reached the hall.
“Yes,” admitted Rex. “Mr. Witherby, I have a hunch that my uncle was right concerning that investment. It is worth investigating.”
Witherby was picking up hat and coat; his garments had been left on the hall table.
“Folly runs in your family,” cackled the old lawyer. “The fortune you have gained is a slender one. Yet I presume you will be ready to waste it in following your uncle’s hopeless schemes.”
“The scheme may not be so hopeless,” Rex said slowly. “It is my feeling that I may be following a well-laid plan of my uncle’s.”
Firth had entered the hallway. The dry-faced servant was standing by the curtained door to the library. Neither Rex nor Witherby noted his watching.
“I intend to go to Michigan,” decided Rex. “Unless I decide to change my plans, I shall leave late tomorrow night.”
“No funds will be available,” warned Witherby.
“I can collect them later,” returned Rex. “We shall arrange that tomorrow, at your office. I have money of my own for the present.”
“You intend to look for the lost shaft of the Quest mine?”
“Exactly! Furthermore, I expect to find it.”
“You will waste your legacy—”
“Not by a one-man search.”
Firth, standing in the hallway, was reaching for a telephone. Plucking the instrument from a table, the servant stepped through the curtains into the library, carrying the long extension cord with him.
Rex and Witherby had reached the outer door. Neither had observed the servant’s action.
As Rex opened the door, Witherby plucked a gold-headed cane from an umbrella rack. With this last item of equipment added to hat and coat, the stoop-shouldered lawyer was prepared to leave. But as he stood on the brownstone door sill, Witherby could not refrain from caustic comment.
“SUIT yourself, young man,” he snorted. “Be like your uncle. Refuse to follow wise advice. Waste your legacy, if you choose, but never say that I did not warn you.
“That stock of yours is in safe-keeping, worthless though it is. You hold the controlling interest in the Quest Gold Mine. That, however, is your misfortune.”
“Just what would you advise?” questioned Rex, as Witherby paused.
“To forget it!” snapped Witherby. “Unless you could rid yourself of that idiotic investment. At two cents on the dollar, a sale of Quest mine stock would be a profitable transaction. But no fool would offer you such a proposition.”
Rex Brodford smiled as he extended his hand. Old Witherby accepted the farewell shake; then turned about, mumbling, and strode down the steps, leaning heavily on his cane.
Rex watched the lawyer click away along the sidewalk. Witherby, too, was heading for the avenue.
Then, with a shrug of his shoulders, the young man reentered the house.
Firth was stepping from the living room as Rex closed the door. Quickly, the servant replaced the telephone upon the table; then stepped aside as Rex approached.
The young man did not observe Firth’s action. Nor did he do more than scarcely notice the servant. For Rex, musingly drawing a cigarette from his pocket, was lost in thought as he strolled back into the curtained library.
Rex Brodford was thinking of his plan to visit Michigan, there to begin a search for the lost shaft of the Quest Gold Mine. Firth knew the trend of his new master’s thought. That fact was plain by the twisted smile that appeared upon the servant’s parchment-like features.