He was told he could. There was some haggling about the price to be paid, but the matter was amicably settled in the end, and the Jew invited the seafarer to have some more vodka. True to the traditions of his kind the world over, the sailor man accepted the invitation, and the two sat drinking until the landlord came to remind them it was time they retired.
The sailor was pretty far gone in his cups, and the Jew offered to assist him up the stairs to bed. With some difficulty the pair managed to mount the greasy, rickety stairs to where the sleeping chambers were, and the Jew accompanied the sailor man to his room, and then from his capacious pocket he produced a bottle of vodka, and they set to work to discuss it. Presently the Jew murmured in a maudlin way, as his thoughts still ran upon the gems:
‘By Father Abraham, but it was a big haul! Why, there must have been a million roubles’ worth of them.’
‘Of what?’ asked the skipper, who, though pretty well soaked, seemed to have his wits about him.
‘The stolen jewels,’ mumbled the Jew. ‘I would buy every one of them at a price; I would, so help me God!’
‘Now, what price would you give?’
‘How could I tell—how could I tell, unless I saw them?’
The sailor man became thoughtful and silent, and the Jew sank down in a corner like a sack, mumbling incoherently guttural sentences, in which the words ‘gems, jewels, gold,’ predominated. Presently the sailor was overcome by his potations, and stretching himself on the bed, boots and all, was soon snoring in drunken sleep. A couple of hours later the Jew crept from the room, sought his own chamber, and was speedily sound asleep in the bed.
The next morning the two men drank their tea together, and having lighted one of his long black cigars, the sailor invited the Jew forth into the city.
‘You say you are from Constantinople?’ asked the sailor, as they walked together.