Captain Sol chuckled. “Yes,” he went on, “I had him, and his eyes and mouth opened together.
“'WHAT?' he bellers. 'Do you mean to say that a boat stopped at that dummed island and DIDN'T TAKE US OFF?'
“'Oh,' says I, 'Darius didn't feel called on to take you off, not after I told him who you was. You see, Mr. Williams,' I says, 'Darius Baker was my partner in that wheat speculation I was tellin' you about.'”
The Captain drew a long breath and re-lit his cigar, which had gone out. His friend pounded the settee ecstatically.
“There!” he cried. “I knew the name 'Darius Baker' wa'n't so strange to me. When was you and him in partners, Sol?”
“Oh, 'way back in the old days, afore I went to sea at all, and afore mother died. You wouldn't remember much about it. Mother and I was livin' in Trumet then and our house here was shut up. I was only a kid, or not much more, and Williams was young, too.”
“And that's the way he made his money! HIM! Why, he's the most respected man in this neighborhood, and goes to church, and—”
“Yes. Well, if you make money ENOUGH you can always be respected—by some kinds of people—and find some church that'll take you in. Ain't that so, Bailey?”
Captain Stitt and his cousin, Obed Gott, the paint dealer, were standing in the doorway of the station. They now entered.
“I guess it's so,” replied Stitt, pulling up a chair, “though I don't know what you was talkin' about. However, it's a pretty average safe bet that what you say is so, Sol, 'most any time. What's the special 'so,' this time?”