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"The worst is, those diggings appear to be all a lottery," remarked
Lionel. "Where one gets his pockets lined, another starves. Nay,
ten--fifty--more, for all we know, starve for the one lucky one. I
should not, myself, feel inclined to risk the journey to them."
"_You!_ It's not likely you would," was the reply of Frederick
Massingbird. "Everybody was not born heir to Verner's Pride."
Lionel laughed pleasantly. They were pacing the terrace in the sunshine
of a winter's afternoon, a crisp, cold, bright day in January. At that
moment Tynn came out of the house and approached them.
"My master is up, sir, and would like the paper read to him," said he,
addressing Frederick Massingbird.
"Oh, bother, I can't stop now," broke from that gentleman involuntarily.
"Tynn, you need not say that you found me here. I have an appointment,
and I must hasten to keep it."
Lionel Verner looked at his watch.
"I can spare half an hour," he observed to himself; and he proceeded to
Mr. Verner's room.
The old study that you have seen before. And there sat Mr.


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