“Of course it will; but I shall write by this post, stating that you have been so fortunately preserved.”
“Thanky, sir,” replied I; “have you any further orders, sir?”
“No, Mr Keene; you may go on board and return to your duty.”
I made my bow, and quitted the room; went down below, and found Bob Cross waiting for me.
“Well?” said he, as we walked away.
“Stiff as ever,” replied I: “told me to go on board and ’tend to my duty.”
“Well, I knew it would be so,” replied Bob; “it’s hard to say what stuff them great nobs are made of. Never mind that; you’ve your own game to play, and your own secret to keep.”
“His secret,” replied I, biting my lips, “to keep or to tell, as may happen.”
“Don’t let your vexation get the better of you, Master Keene; you’ve the best of it, if you only keep your temper; let him play his cards, and you play yours. As you know his cards and he don’t know yours, you must win the game in the end—that is, if you are commonly prudent.”
“You are right, Cross,” replied I; “but you forget that I am but a boy.”