"Our dear Cordelia—Mrs. Berry—" he went on, "intimated that your—ah—compensation was paid by the judge, himself."
"Yes it was. Judge Knowles paid it with his own money. It doesn't come out of the Fair Harbor funds."
"Yes, yes, of course, of course. The judge's interest in my beloved wife's—ah—whims—perhaps that is too frivolous a word—was extraordinarily fine. But now the judge has passed on."
"Yes. More's the pity."
"I heartily agree with you, it is a great pity. An irreparable loss.... But he has gone."
"Yes."
Just here the dialogue came to a peculiar halt. Mr. Phillips seemed to be waiting for his companion to say something and the captain to be waiting for Phillips himself to say it first. As a consequence neither said it. When the conversation was resumed it was once more of a general nature. It was not until just beyond the end of the call that the Fair Harbor was again mentioned. And, as at first, it was the caller who led up to it.
"Captain Kendrick," he observed, "you are, like myself, a man of the world, a man of wide experience."
This was given forth as a positive statement, not a question, yet he seemed to expect a reply. Sears obliged.
"Oh, I don't know," he demurred.