He tarried some while longer in intimate discussion with Mr. Lock, and then departed to interview another member of the translated crew of the obsolete “Jane Gladys,” in the plump and venerable person of Mr. Samuel Clark, the ferryman.
Mr. Clark, perceiving the advent of Mr. Dobb, came forward to greet him with marked expectancy.
“Sam, do you know a chap called Sinnett—Mr. George Sinnett?” queried Mr. Dobb.
“Squeaky voice, leather gaiters, nose like a fox?” sketched Mr. Clark.
“That’s ’im.”
“Know ’im? I ’ate ’im!” stated Mr. Clark.
“Just as well,” sagely remarked Mr. Dobb. “Nothing like a bit of feeling to make a man sincere in his hefforts.”
“Meaning—”
“Why, this ’ere Sinnett is the next down on our list, Sam,” announced Mr. Dobb. “’E’s down for a Hindian hidol—fifteen pounds.”
“And us?” quickly asked Mr. Clark.