The Golden Quest

CHAPTER IV. THE EARLY BIRD

“A GENTLEMAN to see you, Mr. Brodford.”

Firth brought the news to Rex Brodford, who was seated in the old library. Rex glanced at a clock on the mantel. It showed only five minutes of ten.

“Mr. Jubal?” he questioned.

“That was the name he gave, sir,” returned Firth. “Mr. James Jubal.”

“Here early,” mused Rex. “Well, that helps. Ten o’clock is better than ten-thirty. Show him in, Firth.”

The servant departed. A few minutes passed; then the curtains pulled aside and James Jubal stepped into the library. His face unusually yellow in the dull light, the fake promoter delivered a suave smile as he advanced to shake hands with his host, Rex Brodford.

Apparently, Jubal sought to create an impression upon the man whom he had come to see. In that attempt, Jubal failed. Rex Brodford, keen in his study of the arrival, gained an immediate dislike for the promoter. There was something snakish in Jubal’s manner.

Glossy of demeanor, purring in tone, Jubal had the ability to deceive the average customer. But in Rex Brodford, he was facing a young man who had gained ten years of experience with slippery dealers. Rex had met many adventurers in the tropics. He recognized Jubal’s ilk.

Yet Rex was affable in greeting. He invited Jubal to a chair; he offered the promoter a fat cigar.

Businesslike, yet frank, Rex prepared to sound out the fellow’s game. He knew the way to handle birds of Jubal’s feather.

“You sell mining stock?” inquired Rex, by way of opening. “Michigan mining stock?”

“Yes,” purred Jubal. “I have an excellent offering. In the Chalice Gold Mine. A speculation but a good one.”

“Are you speaking of the present?” questioned Rex, with a slight smile. “Or of the past?”

“Of the future,” returned Jubal.

Rex shook his head. His smile was almost sad as he faced the promoter.

“I know about the Chalice Gold Mine,” the young man informed. “It may have been a good investment once. Provided, of course, that it was offered with fair intention. But at present, it is a failure. It has no future.”

“A surprising statement,” proffered Jubal suavely. “Especially from you, Mr. Brodford.”

“Why so?”

“Because you are a heavy investor in the Quest Gold Mine. An operation that was also begun in the Lake Chalice territory.”

“My uncle made that investment. It was ill-advised.”

“Ah! Then you have no belief in the Quest Gold Mine? You think that it is worthless?”

Rex Brodford considered. Jubal’s change of tune was something of a surprise. Rex suspected a game in back of it. He wanted to pump Jubal.

“I BELIEVE,” replied Rex slowly, “that the Quest Gold Mine once had possibilities. That it failed through difficulties in production. That it was wisely closed and forgotten.”

“But now?”

“At present, it may have real possibilities. Let us assume, Mr. Jubal, that there is gold in the Quest mine. Gold, today, is worth nearly twice as much as it was thirty years ago. Production methods have been improved. Gold may be mined for half the former cost.

“Therefore, an operation that would once have lost money could easily show a substantial profit today. That is why I am interested in reclaiming the Quest Gold Mine. I intend to leave for Michigan tonight, to begin an intensive search for its forgotten shaft.”

Jubal smiled. His expression, though intended as a pleasantry, revealed an ugliness of twisted lips.

“Mr. Brodford,” declared Jubal glibly, “you are using my own sales talk. That is exactly what I have said about the Chalice mine. Like the Quest mine, it could be operated at a low cost. Now is the time to invest in gold-mining enterprises—”

“But you are forgetting one point,” interposed Rex steadily — “a difference between the old Quest mine and the new Chalice mine.”

“What is the difference?” demanded Jubal.

“The Quest mine,” replied Rex coldly, “was intended as a legitimate enterprise. The Chalice mine, however, has all the earmarks of a swindle.”

An angry gleam showed on Jubal’s visage. The sallow man calmed quickly; but his eyes still held a challenge.

“If there is gold in that Michigan terrain,” continued Rex steadily, “it may be found in the shaft of the old Quest mine. But the Chalice mine is nothing more than a rabbit burrow, dug at random. A false hope, to drag money from gullible dupes.”

The young man’s words carried accusation. Jubal clenched his fists; his face showed feigned indignation.

Rex delivered a short laugh. Jubal smiled sourly.

“You take me for a swindler?” he questioned.

“I do,” retorted Rex. “In fact, I was warned against you, Jubal.”

Jubal considered. Gradually the anger melted from his features. His smile gained a peculiar suavity. The swindler stroked his glossy, greasy hair.

“All right, Mr. Brodford,” he asserted. “I shall not deny your accusation. I am a swindler; but not by choice. I did have confidence — once — in the Chalice Gold Mine. I thought that it could be made to pay. Later, I altered my opinion.”

“Yet kept on selling stock?”

“Yes. I realized that the company was doomed to failure. For the same reason that the old Quest mine had ceased operation.”

“Through lack of funds?”

“No. Through lack of gold. Frankly, Mr. Brodford, there is not a chunk of gold ore in that entire area.”

REX stared in surprise. Jubal’s confession sounded genuine. Yet the man’s whole stock in trade was the ability to bluff. Rex wanted to hear more before accepting the fellow’s statements.

“I have built up a clientele,” asserted Jubal, in a tone that was almost pleading. “I have talked gold — gold — gold! I can sell nothing else. Yet I have reached the limit of my rope. I have not sold a single share of Chalice mine stock in the last three months.”

“Yet you came here to dupe me,” observed Rex coldly.

“Perhaps,” admitted Jubal, “and perhaps not. I must live somehow; and I would not have passed up the opportunity to make a sale. At the same time, you will agree that I have used no high-pressure tactics.”

“Agreed.”

“You have called my bluff” — Jubal was leaning forward as he spoke — “and I am glad of it. I am free, for once, to talk frankly. Let me ask you one question: you intend to go to Michigan?”

“Yes; tonight.”

“To look for the old Quest mine?”

“Yes.”

Rex was doing no more than make statements that he had already given. Hence he saw no reason to refuse replies to Jubal’s interrogations. The swindler, however, seemed as pleased as if he had gained new information. He settled back in his chair.

“I can give you good advice,” declared Jubal. “Forget the Quest mine. I have told you that the territory is barren. You will be wasting your time.”

“Hardly,” rejoined Rex. “I hold stock in the Quest mine that has a par value of more than two hundred thousand dollars.”

“Worthless paper, Mr. Brodford.”

“Perhaps. And yet—”

“And yet,” supplied Jubal, catching Rex’s pause, “you would like to get something from it. Am I right?”

“Yes,” admitted Rex.

“Good.” Jubal smiled again as he leaned forward. “I can come to the real business that brought me here tonight. I do not want to make a sale, Mr. Brodford. I am here to buy!”

“To buy?” echoed Rex.

“Yes,” replied Jubal. “I want to purchase your entire holdings in Quest Gold Mine. At two cents on the dollar. That, Mr. Brodford, would mean a net profit to you of four-thousand dollars.”

REX stared. He was trying to figure the game. Jubal’s smile widened. Sudden understanding came to Rex. He started to speak. Jubal interrupted him.

“You see it,” chuckled the swindler. “I thought you would. I told you a few minutes ago that I have found the Chalice mine stock a dead item. I need a new offering — one that can give me a chance to use high pressure.

“Stock in the old Quest mine would fill the bill. Customers would grab at it. That mine once operated, even though we have no proofs that it ever produced. You are getting four thousand dollars for old paper, Mr. Brodford, while I—”

“While you,” interrupted Rex harshly, “are planning new trimmings. You want me to aid you in an enterprise which in your opinion is worthless.”

“I am a promoter—”

“You are a swindler! I shall be no party to your scheme, Jubal.”

Rex arose as he spoke. He glanced at the clock. It showed quarter past ten. He smiled grimly.

“You came early, Jubal,” stated Rex. “You will leave early. Firth” — Rex turned toward the door as he called; Firth appeared — “get Mr. Jubal’s hat and coat. He is leaving.”

Firth went out into the hall. Jubal was defiant, scowling. On his feet, he thrust his leering face toward Rex Brodford.

“You fool!” snarled the swindler. “You will regret this action! I offered you a chance. To stay here — to make a profit. I brought you opportunity—”

“And I refused it,” broke in Rex. “My plans have been made, Jubal, and you can not change them. I am closing this house tonight. I am leaving for Michigan.”

Firth arrived with Jubal’s hat and coat. Muttering curses, the swindler donned the garments, glaring at Rex as he did so. Straightening, he issued a last statement.

“Think this over, Brodford!” exclaimed the swindler. “It is for your own good. Postpone this trip of yours until—”

“Firth,” interposed Rex, “show Mr. Jubal to the door.”

Firth opened the curtains. Still muttering, Jubal turned about and strode through. Rex remained in the library, listening to the swindler’s departure.

Mutterings from the hall. Jubal was probably delivering an outburst to Firth. Then came the slam of the front door.

FIRTH returned. He reached the curtain to find Rex standing in the center of the library. The young man was wearing a fixed smile. He looked toward Firth.

“Everything is packed, sir,” stated the servant. “Shall I call a cab? You should allow ample time—”

“Yes,” interposed Rex, “I would like to reach the Grand Central well ahead of train time. It would allow me time for sandwiches and coffee. What about yourself, Firth?”

“I am all packed, sir. I shall close the house directly after you leave.”

“And where will you go then?”

“To visit relatives, sir. I shall send my address to Mr. Witherby. If you require my services later, sir—”

“I shall communicate with you, Firth.”

“Thank you, sir. I shall call the cab at once.”

Firth stepped into the hall. He picked up the telephone from the table. Rex, pacing the library, heard the old servant use the dial. But he did not observe the actions that followed.

Immediately after dialing, Firth pressed down the receiver hook. Holding the telephone, he waited; then began to speak, as if to someone at the other end. Rex heard Firth’s voice, inquiring for the Intercity Cab Company. But the curtain hid his view. He had no idea that Firth was faking the call.

The servant appeared in the doorway, hanging up the receiver. He bowed and stated:

“The taxi will be here in ten minutes, sir.”

“Good,” returned Rex. “Bring down my bags, Firth.”

The servant departed. As he walked through the hall, his face showed the same evil gleam that it had betrayed the night before. Firth had played a new part as a tool in some insidious scheme.

Two blocks away from the Brodford mansion, James Jubal had entered a drug store. The swindler was in a phone booth, making a call of his own. His final words sounded:

“Be there with the cab. Pull up when the old flunky gives the high sign.”

It was James Jubal who had actually ordered a taxi to Rex Brodford’s home. Firth had teamed with the swindler. Jubal, as he left the drug store, wore a vicious leer.

A clock was chiming half past ten — the time originally set for Jubal’s appointment with Rex Brodford. The promoter had come early; he had left early. Half past ten had become the time for a different action.

James Jubal defeated in his efforts to purchase Rex Brodford’s stock at two cents on the dollar, had launched a different plan to block the young man’s trip to Michigan.