But to Bulmer, David said savagely:
"Wot's bitten Coke? 'E must 'ave gone stark, starin' mad."
"Iris is alive!" murmured Bulmer.
"Nice mess she med of things w'en she slung 'er 'ook from Linden
'Ouse," grunted her uncle.
"I don't blame 'er. She meant no 'arm. She's on'y a bit of a lass,
w'en all is said an' done. Mebbe it's my fault, or yours, or the fault
of both of us. An' now, David, I'll tell you wot I 'ad in me mind in
comin' 'ere this morning. You're hard up. You don't know where to
turn for a penny. If you're agreeable, I'll put a trustworthy man in
this office an' give 'im full powers to pull your affairs straight.
Mind you, I'm doin' this for Iris, not for you. An' now that we know
wot's 'appening in South America, you an' I will go out there and look
into things. A mail steamer will take us there in sixteen days, an'
before we sail we can work the cables a bit so as to stop Iris from
startin' for 'ome before we arrive. The trip will do us good, an'
we'll be away from the gossip of Bootle. Are you game? Well, gimme
your 'and on it."
[Illustration: "Well, gimme your 'and on it"]
CHAPTER XII
THE LURE OF GOLD
"Philip, I want to tell you something."
"Something pleasant?"
"No."
"Then why tell me?"
"Because, unhappily, it must be told.
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