“What’s his name?”
“Gingles—Captain Gingles, I think they call him.”
“Ah! you don’t say so? What sort of a fellow is he?”
“Well, he’s rather tall, and strong-looking; but he’s got a grey head and long hair, and wears spectacles, and stoops like a very old man.”
“Not much good in a quarrel or a fight, I suppose”
“Him! Bless your heart, no; he’s as gentle as a child, and, I warrant me, as weak as a cat.”
This description of the person to whom Redgill addressed his note so pleased Captain Jack that he altered his mind again for the hundredth time, and resolved to take and present the note himself, and thus pocket the large sum bargained for.
He soon got rid of Ben, and, with a light heart, bent his steps towards the well-known inn.
He was muffled up to the eyes, and when he had ordered a bottle of wine and other luxuries, he entered the card-room and seated himself in a quiet corner.
He cast a quick glance around him, and instantly perceived old Gingles, who had at his elbow a large sum in gold.