Bradley Wentworth looked the man full in the face. It was a glance of sharp scrutiny, so sharp that Samuel Standish, though not a sensitive man, flushed and winced under it.
“I may be wrong,” said Wentworth, “but you look to me like an adventurer.”
“Do you mean to insult me?” demanded Standish, starting angrily.
“No; in fact, I rather hope that you are the sort of character I take you to be.”
“I don’t understand you,” and Standish looked and was really bewildered.
“Only because if you are as unscrupulous as I believe you to be, I may be able to throw a job in your way.”
“You may assume then that you are correct.” Wentworth laughed slightly.
“I thought so,” he said.
“I am ready for a job,” went on Standish. “In fact I am hard up, and am obliged to earn money in some way.”
“And are not very particular in what way.”