“I remember, sir, when each one of them was a working concern.” He paused and pointed to a derelict mine below us. “That was Damar Mine—that was, and two hundred men used to work there.”
“Bad luck on them,” I said, “but I think as far as the scenery is concerned it’s better as it is. Didn’t pay, I suppose?”
“That’s it, sir: didn’t pay. Though they do say as how the men that are working Black Mine are going to make it pay. A rare lot of money they’re putting into it, so Peter Tregerthen told me. He be one of the foremen.”
“Where is Black Mine?” I asked perfunctorily.
“Just over this hill, sir, and you’ll see it. Only started in May, they did. Queer people too.”
I stared at him: it was impossible, of course—just a coincidence. …
“How do you mean—queer people?” I asked.
“Peter Tregerthen he tells me as how they’ve got queer ideas,” he answered. “Scientific mining they’re a-going for: carrying out lots of experiments secretly—things which the boss says will revolutionise the industry. But so far nothing seems to have come of them: they just goes on mining in the old way. There it is, sir: that’s Black Mine.”
We had reached the top of the tor, and below us, a quarter of a mile away, lay the road from Land’s End to St. Ives. On the other side, halfway between the road and the edge of the cliffs, stood the works, and for a moment or two a sudden uncontrollable excitement took hold of me. Was it possible that our search was ended almost before it had begun? And then I took a pull at myself: I was jumping ahead with a vengeance. To base such an idea on a mere coincidence in dates and a Cornish miner’s statement that the owners were queer people was ridiculous. And anything less nefarious than the peaceful appearance of Black Mine would have been hard to imagine. Smoke drifted lazily up from the tall chimney, and lines of trucks drawn by horses passed and repassed.
“How many men are employed there?” I asked my companion.
“Not many, sir, yet,” he answered. “It’s up in that wooden building yonder on the edge of the cliffs that they be experimenting as I told you. No one aren’t allowed near at all. In fact Peter Tregerthen he did tell me that one day he went up and there was a terrible scene. He wanted for to ask the boss something or t’other, and the boss very nigh sacked him. Well, sir, I reckons I must be a-going on. Be you waiting here?”
“Yes,” I said. “I think I’ll stop here a bit. Good morning to you.”
I watched him go down the hill and strike the road: then, moved by a sudden impulse, I retraced my steps to the reverse slope of the tor, and lying down behind a rock I focused my field-glasses on the wooden building which was so very private in its owners’ estimation. It seemed a perfectly ordinary erection, though considerably larger than I had thought when I saw it with the naked eye. I could see now that it stretched back some distance from the edge of the cliff, though, being foreshortened, it was hard to guess any dimensions.
Of signs of life in it I could see none. No one entered or left, and on the landside—the only one I could observe properly—there were no windows as far as I could make out. And then a sudden glint, such as the sun makes when its light strikes something shining, came from up near the roof. It was not repeated, though I kept my glasses glued on the spot for ten minutes.
It was as I was coming to the conclusion that I was wasting time, and that an inspection from closer range was indicated (after all they couldn’t sack me), that a man came out of the building and walked towards the mine. I saw, on consulting the ordnance map, that the mine itself was just over half-a-mile from where I lay, and the cliff’s edge was distant a further half-mile. And it was just about ten minutes before the man reappeared on my side of the mine buildings. I watched him idly: he was still too far off for me to be able to distinguish his features. After a while he struck the road, but instead of turning along it one way or the other he came straight on, and commenced to climb the hill. In fact it suddenly dawned on me that he was coming directly for me. I slipped backwards out of sight, and hurriedly set up my easel and camp stool, only to see another man approaching from my right rear. And the second man must have seen my hurried preparations. However, I argued to myself that there is no law that prevents a man admiring a view through field-glasses preparatory to sketching it. And though as an argument it was perfectly sound, the presence of Drummond would have been far more comforting.
“Good morning.”
The man who had come from the mine breasted the rise in front of me, and I glanced up. He was a complete stranger, with a dark rather swarthy face, and I returned the compliment politely.
“Sketching, I see,” he remarked affably.
“Just beginning,” I answered. And then I took the bull by the horns. “I’ve been admiring the country through my glasses most of the morning.”
“So I perceived,” said another voice behind my shoulder. It was the second man, who again I failed to recognise. “You seemed to decide to start work very suddenly.”
“I presume,” I remarked coldly, “that I can decide to start work when I like, where I like, and how I like. The matter is my business, and my business
