The twinkle in the blue eyes drew an answering chuckle from the American, even Harcourt relaxing sufficiently to smile slightly.
"You seem to have your uses, certainly," said the Englishman dryly. "By the way, Hammer, where are you stopping?"
"I've stopped," grinned the American cheerfully. "My war-bag's aboard the ship still, but there's nothing in it worth carrying off. I have my pipe here, and no other clothes worthy the name.
"Then you'd better go home with me to-night," returned the other. "We'll do the opera first, if you like. To-morrow, you can take up your quarters aboard the Daphne, and we can talk over money matters at leisure.
"Now, John Solomon, you seem to have a fairly good idea of my business already, so I'll simply say that my yacht, the Daphne, is anchored at the Royal Thames docks and that you can go aboard whenever you please. As supercargo, you will join the officers' mess, of course, but I'll be aboard to-morrow and will fix things up with you, and you can sign articles then. And—er—about those bally papers—er—you had better get them."
"Yes, sir, I'll 'ave them to-morrow, sir," and John Solomon touched his forehead respectfully; but Hammer imagined that he caught something very like a wink from one of those wide blue eyes.
"Thank you werry much, Mr. Harcourt, and you, Mr. 'Ammer, and I'll be aboard bright and early, since it's the early worm what sees the bird first, as the Good Book says."
"Very good," rejoined Harcourt briefly, and so John Solomon passed forth from all the glory of Prince's, with his little black clay pipe wagging defiantly at the liveried doormen, and the place thereof knew him no more.
Although he had accepted the proffered partnership glibly enough, Hammer was by no means sure that he would stick to it, for various reasons. Chief among these was the fact that he had a profound distrust of himself; since he had deliberately thrown himself to the dogs, in a way, he had come to have a deep-rooted conviction that he was no good, that his better qualities mere surface outcroppings, and that a man such as Harcourt would like him less the better he knew him.
Still, he frankly liked Harcourt, and the idea of free-lancing about the ocean appealed strongly to him. But he had so long been battering down the better side of his own nature, the shock of his past trouble had so deeply bitten into his soul, that he could not look forward to the future with anything approaching hope.