One or two complained angrily of Mr. Wardlaw's absence at such a time.
"Well, good gentlemen," said Wylie, "I'll tell ye. Mr. Wardlaw's sweetheart was aboard the ship. He is a'most broken-hearted. He vallied her more than all the gold, that you may take your oath on."
This stroke, coming from a rough fellow in a pea-jacket, who looked as simple as he was cunning, silenced remonstrance, and went far to disarm suspicion; and so pleased Michael Penfold that he said, "Mr. Wylie, you are interested in this business, would you mind going to Mr. Wardlaw's house and asking what we are to do next? I'll give you his address and a line begging him to make an effort and see you. Business is the heart's best ointment. Eh, dear Mr. Wylie, I have known grief, too; and I think I should have gone mad when they sent my poor son away, but for business, especially the summing up of long columns, etc."
Wylie called at the house in Russell Square, and asked to see Mr. Wardlaw.
The servant shook his head. "You can't see him; he is very ill."
"Very ill?" said Wylie. "I'm sorry for that. Well, but I shan't make him any worse; and Mr. Penfold says I must see him. It is very particular, I tell you. He won't thank you for refusing me, when he comes to hear of it."
He said this very seriously; and the servant, after a short hesitation, begged him to sit down in the passage a moment. He then went into the dining-room, and shortly reappeared, holding the door open. Out came, not Wardlaw junior, but Wardlaw senior.
"My son is in no condition to receive you," said he, gravely; "but I am at your service. What is your business?"
Wylie was taken off his guard, and stammered out something about the Shannon.
"The Shannon! What have you to do with her? You belong to the Proserpine."