“An’ this time I heard somethin’ about you.”
“Me? I don’t know three people in St. John’s.”
“Guess I met one of the three, then.”
“Where? How? Who was it?”
Bijonah Tanner coughed and shifted uneasily in his chair.
“Wal,” he said, “I was takin’ a little turn along the water-front, just a leetle turn, as the wife will tell you, when I dropped into a––er––that is––a rum-shop and heard three men at the table next to mine talking about you.”
Schofield smiled broadly in the darkness. Bijonah’s little turns along the water-front of St. John’s or any other port had been the subject for much prayer and supplication in the hearts of many devout persons thoroughly interested in their neighbor’s welfare. And of late years Ma Tanner had been making trips with him to supply stimulus to his conscience.
“What were they talking about?” So far from being suspicious, Code was merely idly curious of the gossip about him.
“My boy,” said Tanner, suddenly grave, “I was the best friend your father had for forty years, and I’m goin’ to try and be as good a friend to his son. But you mustn’t mind what I tell ye.”