George replied that he had.
"I suppose he did the handsome thing by you?" said the young man, in an inquiring tone. "I know I should if it had been mine."
"I am entirely satisfied with the reward I received," replied George.
"Was there much in it?"
"Fifteen hundred dollars, I believe, and papers worth twice that amount."
The young man's countenance fell at once. He turned and walked away, while George ran up the stairs that led to the hurricane-deck.
"Fifteen hundred dollars, and papers worth twice that amount," repeated the young man, as he leaned upon the rail and looked down into the water. "That would have set me square with my employer, and got me out of a scrape that I am sure is going to end in something serious, sooner or later. I have lost a lot of Clayton's money at poker, and how I am going to replace it, I don't know. Why couldn't I have been lucky enough to find that pocket-book? But I never have luck except in one way: I am always able to get even with those who go back on me, and if I ever have the chance to make this young snipe feel as miserable as I do this moment, how quickly I'll jump at it."
The opportunity he wished for presented itself after a while, and we shall see what use the young man made of it.