"Of course!" he nodded. "When the game gets me running I'd stake my shoes if I could sell 'em. And ten pounds was more than the bank would have paid. All the same, you've got a rare piece, cheap."
"Just what have I got?"
"A doubloon—don't you know? One of those queer Portuguese cart wheels. Sink it! I made sure I'd found a lucky at last—anybody would."
I echoed that glorious old word:
"A doubloon?"
"Aye!" He smiled again. "Pieces of eight—what? The pirates used to cut throats for 'em."
On sudden impulse I risked a small experiment.
"I've no wish to profit by your misfortune," I said. "This is evidently very valuable.... Call the ten pounds a loan."
He glanced at the coin as I laid it before him; and then, with a widening of pupil, at me. I was startled to see him hesitate.
"No," he decided. "No. But look here, that's decent of you. I will say it's downright decent."