“I hope, Mr. Anderson,” he said, “that you will forget and forgive.”
“Surely,” said Timothy, “I have nothing to forgive.”
“My friend,” said Mr. Brown with a smile, “is very precipitate—which means hasty,” he explained.
“Thank you,” said Timothy, “I thought it meant crooked.”
A spasm contorted the features of Mr. Chelwyn, but he said nothing. As for Brown, he laughed. He laughed heartily but spuriously.
“That’s not a bad joke,” he said, “but to tell you the truth, we mistook you for—one of us, and my friend and I thought it would be a good joke to get the better of you.”
“And was it?” asked Timothy.
“It was and it wasn’t,” said Mr. Brown, not easily nonplussed. “Of course, we intended restoring the money to you before you left the ship.”
“Naturally,” said Timothy. “I never thought you would do anything else.”
“Only you know you rather spoilt our little esprit.”