"I met you just now on the bridge and asked you to post a letter; give it back to me, if you please. I've changed my mind."
The officer looked at him narrowly, but he took the proffered shilling, and returned the letter.
"That was the narrowest squeak I've had yet," thought Mike.
When he returned to the cottage he found Frank and Thigh still together.
"Mr. Beacham Brown," said Thigh, "is now half-proprietor of the Pilgrim. The papers are signed. I came down quite prepared. I believe in settling things right off. When Mrs. Escott comes in, we will drink to the new Pilgrim, or, if you like it better, to the old Pilgrim, who starts afresh with a new staff and scrip, and a well-filled scrip too," he added, laughing vacuously.
"I hope," said Mike, "that Holloway is not the shrine he is journeying towards."
"I hope your book won't bring us there."
"Why, I didn't know you were going to continue—"
"Oh, yes," said Thigh; "that is to say, if we can come to an arrangement about the purchase," and Thigh lapsed into a stony silence, as was his practice when conducting a bargain.
"By God!" Mike thought, "I wish we were playing at écarté or poker.
I'm no good at business."