"Yes, Mr. Appleyard, he's stayed here several times last year and this, for a day or two. He's not been here so much this year as last, but he was here only three weeks ago."
"That's the man who found the money to start with," said Mr. Appleyard. "And, of course, he's now a director."
Mr. Appleyard's companion laughed, cynically.
"Aye, well, they'll have need of some London brains on the board of directors if young Mortover's one!" he said. "I should say he's about as fit to direct anything as that poker is! Never knew him do anything but loaf round his old house with his hands in his pockets."
"Oh, well, I suppose as the land was his, they've put him down as a director!" said Mr. Appleyard. "There's four or five more of 'em—Mortover'll just acquiesce in what the others do. He's safe, anyhow—rich man now, what with selling the land and mineral rights to this company, and what he'll get on his shares. I've no doubt this mine's going to pay———"
The two cronies plunged into a discussion of the relative merits of local coal-mining enterprises, and Wedgewood, with a nod to the barmaid, went off to another room to look for writing materials. He wanted to write a letter—but before beginning it he sat for some little
