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Allen, Grant, 1848-1899

"What's Bred in the Bone"


"What have you got there?" the journalist asked at last, eyeing it
inquiringly, as the fly eyes the cobweb.
"Oh, nothing," Nevitfc answered, folding the paper up neatly and
returning it to his pocket. "You've sworn off now, so it does not
concern you. Just the prospectus of a little fresh thing coming
out next week--a very exceptional chance--but you don't want to
go in for it. I mean to apply for three hundred shares myself, I'm
so certain of its success; and I had thought of advising you to
take a hundred and fifty on your own account as well, with that
hundred and fifty you cleared over the Cordova Cattle bonds. They're
ten-pound shares, at a merely nominal price--ten bob on application
and ten on allotment--you could take a hundred and fifty as easy
as look at it. No further calls will ever be made. It's really a
most remarkable investment."
"Let me see the prospectus," Guy murmured, faltering, the fever
of speculation once more getting the better of him.
Nevitt pretended to hang back like a man with fine scruples. "It's
the Rio Negro Diamond and Sapphire Mine, Limited," he said, with
a deprecatory air. "But you'd better not go in for it. I expect to
make a pot out of the thing myself.


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