“’Ere, ’ere,” said Sweet William. “I’m there. Same sentiment ’ere,” and he smote his narrow chest.
“But how are we to find out the bank’s business?” asked Dolphin. “Lor’ bless us, if the manager would tip us the wink, we’d be all right.”
“Get me took in as extry clerk,” suggested William. “Blame me, if I don’t apply for the billet to-morrow morning.”
“Go on chiacking,” said Garstang; “poke borak—it don’t hurt me. But if you want to do anything in a workmanlike and perfessional manner, listen to advice. Isn’t shipments of virgin gold made from the Coast? Isn’t such shipments made public by the newspapers? Very good. When we see a steamer has brought up a pile of gold, where’s it put but in the bank? There’s our chance. D’you follow? Then we’ll be sure to get something for our pains.”
“’Ere, ’ere!” cried Sweet William, smacking the now leering Garstang on the back. “Good on you. Maximum return for minimum risk.”
Carnac joined in the laugh. “You’re not so thick-headed after all,” he said to the crooked-faced man.
“Nor ’e ain’t so awful white-livered neither,” said William.
Dolphin, whose eyes were fixed on the table contemplatively, was silent for a while. When the noise made by the other three had terminated, he said, “Well, have it as you like. But how will the scheme fit in with the steamer business?”
“First rate,” answered William. “Where there’s gold there’ll be a steamer to take it away, won’t there?”
“And when the steamer doesn’t get its gold at the appointed time,” replied Dolphin, “the whole town will be roused to hunt for it. That’s no game for us. I agree to waiting for gold to be lodged in the bank, but if that does’t come off within reasonable time, I’m for taking the chance that’s offered. I’m willing to wait a fortnight. How’d that suit you, Garstang?”