it will be a pity if the old man doesn't get his information,
which he isn't likely to do for some time with that young chap over on
the west coast. Some one ought to send him a report."

"I have a mind to do it myself," said Thorpe, reflectively.

"It would be an awfully decent thing for you to do. Be a good joke on
your friend, too, and make him fed ashamed of himself for cutting you
so dead yesterday, when he finds it out. He is bound to get into
trouble if some sort of a report isn't sent in, now that he is known to
have escaped from the wreck."

"Confound him!" exclaimed Thorpe. "I don't care how soon he gets into
trouble; nor how much."

"Oh, come. That isn't a nice way to speak of an old friend and
classmate," remarked Mr. Gregg, reprovingly. "Now, I always feel sorry
when I see a decent young chap like that throwing away a good chance,
and want to help him if I can. So in the present case, I think we
really ought to send in a report that will satisfy old Hepburn, and
keep the boy solid with his employers. I shouldn't know how to word it
myself, but if you, with your expert knowledge of the subject, will
make it out, of course after taking a look at the mine, I'll see that
you don't lose anything by your kindness."

"All right," replied Thorpe, who was quite sharp enough to comprehend
the other's meaning. "I'll do it."

So the two conspirators drove to the picturesque fishing village of
Portugal Cove, where they hired a boat to carry them across to Bell
Island. There they paid a hasty visit to the mine, which Mr. Gregg
plausibly belittled and undervalued, until Thorpe really began to
consider it a greatly overestimated piece of property, and this idea he
embodied in a report that he wrote out that very evening.

"I'm glad to see that you think as I do concerning the real
worthlessness of Bell Island," remarked Mr. Gregg, gravely, as he
glanced over the paper, "and the man who would have anything to do with
it after reading this must be a greater fool than I take old Hepburn to
be."

On the following day a type-written copy of Thorpe's report was made,
signed "C. G.," and forwarded by mail to the president of the Gotham
Trust and Investment Company. As a result, a telegram was received a
week later at the Bank of Nova Scotia in St. Johns addressed to Cabot
Grant, and desiring him to return at once to New York. As the bank
people wired back that they had no knowledge of any such person, Mr.
He