“Look here, Master Vine, sir,” said the man stolidly, “I aren’t a fool. Hundred pound’s a lot o’ money, and of course it’s to smuggle some one away on the quiet. Well, so be it.”
“Hah!” ejaculated Vine.
“It’s to ’blige you as I’ve knowd for a kind-hearted gent these ever so many years, though there was that bit o’ trouble ’bout my brother’s lass, as I don’t believe took that there money.”
“No, no, she was innocent,” cried Louise.
“Thanks for that, miss, and—say, has young Master Harry been up to some game?”
There was no reply.
“Never mind. Don’t you speak without you like, Master Vine, sir. Yonder’s our boot, and I’ll go down to her, and she shall lie off just outside, and I’ll wait in our little punt down by the harbour steps. Will that do?”
“Yes; and you will trust me to pay you a hundred pounds?”
“Trust you?”
The man uttered a low chuckle.