"We have been rivals in our ventures, as you doubtless know," continued Murray, taking a pinch of snuff in a manner which the Duc d'Orleans might have envied.
"But he doesn't take it seriously, sir," I assured him gravely.
"Eh! What's that?"
"He laughs about it, sir."
And I goggled at him stupidly. After a moment's inspection of my countenance he seemed constrained to accept the remark as witless innocence, for a grim light of humor appeared in his eyes.
"Laughs, does he! Zooks, I might have known it. He is a merry soul, Robert Juggins, and I should like to see him footing a morris to a right merry tune. Mayhap we shall see it some day. Who knows?"
"Who knows, sir?" I repeated vacantly.
"And you are to cast your fortunes in America, lad!" he resumed.
"Oh, aye, sir."
"What I might have expected from a fine, upstanding young fellow," he applauded me. "We need many of your like. You may count upon my good offices in New York. Faith, I shall be glad to do a favor if I can, for Robert Juggins' nephew—or did you say cousin?"