“A bit of make-believe I can understand,” reproved Mr. Tridge, loftily. “But a pack of downright lies!”
“Well, ’e shouldn’t try to be so clever, then!” said Mr. Clark, with spirit. “If ’e can slip out the other side without paying my fare, ’e think’s ’e’s done well, and ’e takes a deal of convincing, too, to get the money out of ’im in the end.”
“Yes, ’e certainly watches money pretty close,” agreed Mr. Tridge. “Never yet ’as ’e over-paid me by as much as a ’apenny, and ’e tried to beat down the price of a shave till ’e see it was no good. Oh, ’e’s got a eye for the main chance all right!”
“That was the character I got of ’im,” mentioned Mr. Dobb, dryly. “’Ence this gathering of old friends.”
“Anyway,” summarized Mr. Lock, “this here Mr. Lane sounds just our mark!”
And with that the confederation went into close committee.
It was during the course of the next afternoon that a rotund little gentleman, with a countenance remarkable for a guileless expression and neatly trimmed side-whiskers, sauntered down to the ferry-boat at the mouth of the harbour.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Lane, sir!” said Mr. Samuel Clark, with deference. “Going across?”
The little gentleman, affably admitting this to be his intention, disposed himself neatly in the boat, and Mr. Clark pulled off at his customary leisurely stroke.
“Beautiful weather!” observed Mr. Lane.