The next afternoon Denry received by post a ring in a box. "I will not submit to insult," ran the brief letter.
"I only said 'Rothschild'!" Denry murmured to himself. "Can't a fellow say 'Rothschild'?"
But secretly he was proud of himself.
CHAPTER V. THE MERCANTILE MARINE
I
The decisive scene, henceforward historic, occurred in the shanty known as "John's cabin"—John being the unacknowledged leader of the 'longshore population—under the tail of Llandudno pier. The cabin, festooned with cordage, was lighted by an oil-lamp of a primitive model, and round the orange case on which the lamp was balanced sat Denry, Cregeen, the owner of the lifeboat, and John himself (to give, as it were, a semi-official character to whatever was afoot).
"Well, here you are," said Denry, and handed to Cregeen a piece of paper.
"What's this, I 'm asking ye," said Cregeen, taking the paper in his large fingers and peering at it as though it had been a papyrus.
But he knew quite well what it was. It was a check for twenty-five pounds. What he did not know was that, with the ten pounds paid in cash earlier in the day, it represented a very large part indeed of such of Denry's savings as had survived his engagement to Ruth Earp. Cregeen took a pen as though it had been a match-end and wrote a receipt. Then, after finding a stamp in a pocket of his waistcoat under his jersey, he put it in his mouth and lost it there for a long time. Finally Denry got the receipt, certifying that he was the owner of the lifeboat formerly known as Llandudno, but momentarily without a name, together with all her gear and sails.
"Are ye going to live in her?" the rather curt John enquired.