“We’re the very boys to co-operate with him, Frank!” exclaimed the captain: “and what’s more, you and me can play into ache-other’s hands. ’Tisn’t for nothing that we’ve been frinds for the last twinty years.”
“In which time we’ve seen many ups and downs, captain,” observed Frank,—“had many a good dinner, and gone many a time without one—spent many a guinea, and seen many a day when we didn’t know where the devil to get a shilling——”
“Be the power-rs! and had many a rar-r lar-r-rk into the bargin!” said Captain O’Blunderbuss. “D’ye renumber our gitting into the station-house the night afther your dear wife left ye to jine the old gintleman that fell in love with her, and——”
“And who was kind enough to take her off my hands, children and all!” exclaimed Frank, laughing heartily. “Ah! that was a glorious business—that was—I mean, old Shipley relieving me of my dear spouse and the five responsibilities.”
“And didn’t I conduct the bargin for ye?” demanded the captain. “Didn’t I make him pony down a thousand pounds to prevint an action of crim. con.? Be the potheen of ould Ireland—I did that same business as nate and clane as iver such a thing was setthled in this wor-r-rld!”
“True enough, captain,” said Frank. “But it’s just on the stroke of three, I declare!” he exclaimed, glancing up at Saint Bride’s, which they were now passing. “How we must have dawdled along! I wish you wouldn’t loiter to stare at the gals so, captain,” he added, laughing.
“Be Jasus! and it’s yourself, Frank, that ogles all the lasses that we mate,” cried the captain, throwing back an insinuation that was intended as a friendly compliment. “But which is the place, me boy?”
“Here,” said Curtis, turning into a public-house in Fleet Street just as the clock struck three.
CHAPTER CXXIII.
A MAN OF BUSINESS.
Mr. Bubbleton Styles was a gentleman of about fifty years of age. Short, thin, dapper, and active,—with a high, bald forehead, and small restless, twinging eyes,—he seemed a perfect man of business—an impression that was enhanced by a certain sly knowingness which he had assumed years before, and which was now habitual to him. He was uneducated and ignorant: but he had studied the manner in which well-instructed persons spoke—he compared their language with his own—and he had actually weeded his style of speech of the solecisms and grammatical errors that originally characterised it. He had not, however, been able to improve himself in spelling, with equal facility; and therefore he took care never to write a letter. He always had some plausible excuse for throwing this duty in business matters upon some other person more competent than himself.