“What, is it over the town already that my ship has been wrecked?” And Dodd looked annoyed.
“Wrecked? No; but you have been due this two months, ye know. Wrecked? Why, Captain, you haven't ever been wrecked?” And he looked him all over as if he expected to see “WRECKED” branded on him by the elements.
“Ay, James, wrecked on the French coast, and lost my chronometer, and a tip-top sextant. But what of that? I saved It. I have just landed It in the Bank. Good-bye; I must sheer off: I long to be home.”
“Stay a bit, Captain,” said Maxley. “I am not quite easy in my mind. I saw you come out of Hardie's. I thought in course you had been in to draa: but you says different. Now what was it you did leave behind you at that there shop, if you please: not money?”
“Not money? Only L. 14,000. How the man stares! Why, it's not mine, James; it's my children's: there, good-bye;” and he was actually off this time. But Maxley stretched his long limbs, and caught him in two strides, and griped his shoulder without ceremony. “Be you mad?” said he sternly.
“No, but I begin to think you are.”
“That is to be seen,” said Maxley gravely. “Before I lets you go, you must tell me whether you be jesting, or whether you have really been so simple as to drop fourteen—thousand—pounds at Hardie's?” No judge upon the bench, nor bishop in his stall, could be more impressive than this gardener was, when he subdued the vast volume of his voice to a low grave utterance of this sort.
Dodd began to be uneasy. “Why, good heavens, there is nothing wrong with the old Barkington Bank?”
“Nothing wrong?” roared Maxley: then whispered': “Holt! I was laad once for slander, and cost me thirty pounds: nearly killed my missus it did.”
“Man!” cried Dodd, “for my children's sake tell me if you know anything amiss. After all, I'm like a stranger here; more than two years away at a time.”