THE EXPERT
Like the way of an eagle in the air or the way of a man with a maid, the
ways of a mining promoter must be shrouded in mystery and doubt. For
when he wants to buy, no man will sell; and when he wants to sell, no
man will buy; and when he will neither buy nor sell he is generally
suspected of both. Wiley Holman had two fights and a charge of buckshot
to prove that he wanted the Paymaster, and the fact that he had refused
a half interest for nothing to prove that he did not want it. Also he
had sold his tax-title to the property for the sum of one hundred
dollars. What then did it signify when he bought Virginia's despised
stock for four hundred dollars, cash down? The man who could answer that
could explain the way of a man with a maid.
Samuel J. Blount made the claim--and he had his pile to prove it--that
he could think a little closer than most men. A little closer, and a
little farther; but the Paymaster had been his downfall. He had played
the long game to get possession of the mine, only to find he had bought
a white elephant. Every day that he held it he had thrown good money
after bad and he sent out a search party for Wiley Holman. Wiley had
refused half the mine, but that only proved that half of the mine did
not appeal to him--perhaps he would take it all. Samuel J. had been a
student for a good many years in the school of predatory business and he
had learned the rules of the game. He knew that the buyer always decried
the goods and magnified each tiny defect, whereas the seller by as
natural a process played up every virtue to the limit. But any man who
inspected the goods was a potential buyer of the same, and Wiley had
shown more than a passing interest in the fate of the unlucky Paymaster.
And Wiley was a mining engineer.
They met in the glassed-in office of Blount in the ornate Bank of Vegas
and for a half an hour or more Wiley sat tipped back in his chair while
Blount talked of everything in general. It was a way he had, never to
approach anything directly; but Wiley favored more direct methods.
"I understood," he remarked, bringing his chair down with a bang, "that
you wanted to see me on business?"
"Yes, yes, Wiley," soothed Blount, "now please don't rush off--I wanted
to see you about the Paymaster."
"Well, shoot," returned Wiley, "but don't ask my advice, unless you're
ready to pay for it."
He tipped back his chair and sat waiting patiently while Blount
unraveled his thoughts. He could think closer than most men, but not
quicker, and the Paymaster was a tangled affair.
"I have been told," he began at last, "that you are still buying
Paymaster stock. Or at least--well, a check of yours came through here
endorsed by Death Valley Charley, and Virginia Huff. Oh, yes, yes;
that's your business, of course; but here's the point I'm coming to; it
won't do you any good to buy in that stock because I've got a majority
of it right here in my vault. If you want to control the Paymaster,
don't go to someone else--I'm the man you want to see."
He tapped himself on the breast and smiled impressively, and Wiley
nodded his head.
"All right," he said imperturbably, "when I want the Paymaster Mine I'll
know right where to go."
"Yes, you come to me," went on Blount after a minute, "and I'll do the
best I can." He paused expectantly, but Wiley did not speak, so he went
on blandly, as before. "The stock, of course, is nonassessable and the
taxes are very small. I intend from now on to keep them paid up, so
there will be no further tax sales. The stock of Mrs. Huff, which I now
hold as collateral security, is practically mine already, as she has
defaulted on her first month's interest and is preparing to leave the
state. Of course, there is the stock which your father is holding--as I
calculate, something over two hundred thousand shares--and what little
remains outside; but if you are interested in the mine I am the man to
talk to, so what would you like to propose?"
"Well," began Wiley, and then he stopped and seemed to be lost in
thought. "I'll tell you," he said, "I was interested in the Paymaster--I
believe there's something there; but I've got some other propositions
that I can handle a little easier, so if you don't mind we'll wait a
while."
"No, but Wiley," protested Blount as his man rose up to go, "now just
sit down; I'm not quite through. Now I know just as well as you do that
you take a great interest in that mine. Your troubles with Mrs. Huff and
Stiff Neck George prove conclusively that such is the case; and I am
convinced that, either from your father or some other source, you have
valuable inside information. Now I must admit that I'm not a mining man
and my management was not a success; but with your technical education
and all the rest, I am convinced that the results would be different.
No, there's no use denying it, because I know myself that you've been
buying up Paymaster stock."
"Sure," agreed Wiley, "I bought four hundred dollars worth. That would
break the Bank of Vegas. But you've got lots of money--why don't you
hire a competent mining man and go after that lost ore-body yourself?"
"I may do that," replied Blount easily, "but in the meantime why not
make me a reasonable offer, or take the mine on shares?"
"If the Paymaster," observed Wiley, "was the only mine in the world, I'd
make you a proposition in a minute. But a man in my position doesn't
have to buy his mines, and I never work anything on shares."
"Well, now Wiley, I've got another proposition, which you may or may not
approve; but there's no harm, I hope, if I mention it. You know there's
been a difference between me and your father since--well, since the
Paymaster shut down. I respect him very much and have nothing but the
kindliest feelings towards him but he--well, you know how it is. But I
have been informed, Wiley, that since Colonel Huff's death, your father
has been bidding for his stock. In fact, I have seen a letter written to
Mrs. Huff in which he offers her ten cents a share. Now, of course, if
you want to gain control of the company, I'm willing to do what's right;
and so, after thinking it over, I have come to the conclusion that I
will accept that offer now."
"Umm," responded Wiley, squinting his eyes down shrewdly, "how much
would that come to, in all?"
"Well, twenty-one thousand, eight hundred dollars, for what I received
from Mrs. Huff; but of course--well, he'd have to buy a little more of
me in order to get positive control."
"How much more?" asked Wiley, but Blount's crooked mouth pulled down in
a crafty smile.
"We can discuss that later," he suggested mildly. "Do you think he will
buy the stock?"
"Not if he takes my advice," answered Wiley coldly. "I can buy the whole
block for eight hundred."
"How?"
"Why, by loaning Mrs. Huff the eight hundred dollars with which to take
up her note."
"I doubt it," replied Blount, and his mild, deceiving eyes took on the
faintest shadow of a threat. "Mrs. Huff has defaulted on her first
month's interest and, according to the terms of her note, the collateral
automatically passes to me."
"Well, keep it, then," burst out Wiley, "and I hope to God you get stuck
for every cent. Your old mine isn't worth a dam'!"
"Why--Wiley!" gasped Blount, quite shaken for the moment by this
disastrous piece of news, "what reason have you for thinking that?"
"Give me a hundred dollars as an advising expert and I'll tell you--and
show you, too."
"No, I hardly think so," answered Blount at last. "And, Wiley, you don't
think so, either."
"No?" challenged Wiley. "Well, you just watch my smoke and see whether I
do or not."
He had closed the door before Blount dragged him back like a haggling,
relentless pawn-broker.
"Make me a proposition," he clamored desperately, "and if it's anywhere
in reason I'll accept it."
"All right," answered Wiley, "but show me what you've got--I don't buy
any cat in a bag."
"And will you make me an offer?" demanded Blount hopefully. "Will you
take the whole thing off my hands?"
"I will if it's good--but you'll have to show me first that you've got a
controlling share of the stock. And another thing, Mr. Blount, since our
time is equally valuable, let's cut out this four-flushing stuff. If I'd
wanted your mine so awfully bad I'd have held on to it when the title
was mine; but I turned it back to you, just to let you look it over, and
to keep the peace for once. But now, if you're satisfied, I might look
it over; but it'll be under a bond and lease. The parties I represent
are strictly business, and we make it a rule to tie everything up tight
before we put out a cent. I'll want an option on every share you have,
and I can't offer more than ten per cent royalty; but to compensate for
that I'll agree to pay in full or vacate within six months from date."
"But how much?" demanded Blount, brushing aside all the details, "how
much will you pay me a share?"
"I'll pay you," stated Wiley, "what I paid Death Valley Charley, and
that's five cents a share."
"Five cents!" shrilled Blount, rising up in protest, yet jumping at the
price like a trout, "five cents--why, that's practically nothing!"
"Just five cents more than nothing," observed Wiley judicially and
waited for Blount to rave.
"But your father," suggested Blount with a knowing leer, "is in the
market at ten."
"No, not in the market. He offered that to the Widow, but now the deal
is off, because all of her stock has changed hands."
"Well, the stock is the same," suggested Blount insinuatingly. "Give me
seven and a half and split the profits."
"Now don't be a crook," rapped out Wiley angrily. "Just because you
would rob your own father doesn't by any means prove that I will."
"Well, you certainly implied," protested Blount with injured innocence,
"that this stock was to be sold to your father. And if it is worth that
to him, why is it worth less to you? You must be working together."
"No, we're not," declared Wiley. "I'm in on this alone, and have been,
from the start. And just to set your mind at rest--he didn't make that
offer because he wanted the stock, but to kind of help out the Widow."
"Ah," smiled Blount, and nodded his head wisely, but there was a playful
light in his eyes.
"Yes--ah!" flashed back Wiley, "and if you think you're so danged smart
I'll let you keep your old mine a few months."
He started for the door again but Blount dragged him back and laid a
metal box on the table.
"Well, let's get down to business," he said with quick decision, and
spread a heap of papers before his eyes. "There are all my Paymaster
shares, and if you'll take them off my hands you can have them for six
cents, cash."
"I said five," returned Wiley, as he ran through the papers, "and an
option to buy in six months. But this stock of the Widow's--I can't take
that at any price--the Colonel isn't legally dead."
"What?" yelled Blount, and sat down in a chair while he stared at the
inscrutable Wiley.
"His body was never found and, under the law, he can't be declared dead
for seven years. Mrs. Huff had no right to sell his stock."
"Oh, but he's dead, Wiley," assured Blount. "Surely there's no doubt of
that. They found his burro, and his letters and everything; and where he
had run wild through the sand. If that storm hadn't come up they would
certainly have found his body--the Indian trailers said so; so why stick
on a technicality?"
"That's the law," said Wiley. "You know it yourself. But of course, if
you want to vote this stock at a Directors' meeting we can still do
business on that lease."
"Oh, my Lord!" sighed Blount, and after a heavy silence he rose up and
paced the floor. As for Wiley, he ran through the papers, making notes
of dates and numbers, and then grimly began to fill out a legal blank.
"There's the option," he said, passing over a paper, "and I see now how
you double-crossed my father. So you don't need to sign unless you want
to."
"Why--er--what's that?" exclaimed Blount, coming out of his abstraction
as Wiley slapped down the bundle of certificates.
"I see by these endorsements," replied Wiley, "that you sold out before
the panic and bought in all this stock afterwards."
Blount started and a red line mounted up to his eyes as he hastily
glanced over the option.
"Well, I'll sign it," he mumbled, and reached for the pen, but Wiley
checked his hand.
"No, you ring for a notary," he said. "I want that signature
acknowledged."
The notary came and ran perfunctorily through his formula, after which
he left them alone.
"Now here's the bond and lease," went on Wiley curtly, "so bring on your
Board of Directors and let's get this business over. By rights I ought
to kill you."
There was a special meeting then of the Board of Directors of The
Paymaster Mining and Milling Company, and when the bond and lease was
properly drawn up, they signed it and had it witnessed. Then once more
the tense silence came over the room and Wiley rose to go.
"Well," he said, "I've been waiting for ten years just to get these
papers in my hands. And now, you danged crook, just to hit you where you
live, I'm going to make a fortune."
"A fortune!" echoed Blount, and then he clasped his hands and sank
down weakly in a chair. "I knew it!" he moaned, "I knew it all the
time--you've been trying to get that mine for months. But what is it,
Wiley? Have you located the lost vein? Oh, I knew it; all the time!"
"Yes, you did," jeered Wiley, "you didn't know anything, except how to
grab hold of the stock. What good was it to you after you'd got the old
mine--you didn't know what to do with it! All you knew was how to rob
the widow and the orphan and deprive better men of their good name. You
wait till I tell my Old Man about this--and how you were selling him
out, all the time. If it wasn't for you he'd never been called Honest
John by a bunch of these tin-horns and crooks. But I'll show you who's
honest--I'm going to skin you alive for what you did to my father. You
wait till I make my clean-up!"
"But what is it, Wiley?" cried Blount, despairingly. "Have you really
discovered the lost vein?"
"No," grinned Wiley, "but I've consulted an expert and he tells me the
mine is worth millions!"
"What--millions?" burst out Blount, struggling up to his feet. "Now
here, Wiley Holman; I want that option back! You secured it by fraud and
misrepresentation and by concealment of the actual facts. I'll have the
law on you--I'll break the contract--you came here with intent to
defraud!"
"Don't you think it!" returned Wiley, thrusting out his lip. "You
thought you were trimming me, like taking candy from a baby. Why didn't
_you_ get an expert? I offered to hire out to you, myself!"
"Oh--hell!" choked Blount. "Well, tell me the worst--where was it he
told you to dig?"
"Why right down the shaft," answered Wiley blandly. "He's a new kind of
mining expert and he locates the gold by electricity."
"By electricity!" exclaimed Blount, and as he perceived Wiley's smile he
straightened up in a rage. "I don't believe a word of it. Who is this
man, anyway? I never heard of such a thing before!"
"Oh, yes!" said Wiley, as he stepped out the door, "you know the
professor well. They call him Death Valley Charley."