“There are three owners,” said he.
“Ah! where they are?”
“All in this room,” replied my uncle.
“Excellent!” exclaimed our visitor, evidently pleased. He glanced around him, drew a chair to the table and sat down. My father moved his wooden leg a bit to give the stranger more room.
“What is price?” he inquired, looking at Mr. Perkins, whom he faced.
“Price for what, sir?”
“Ship,” said the man.
“Oh, you want to buy the ship?” gasped my uncle, fairly staggered by the suggestion.
“If you please, if you like; if it is rais—rais—raison—a—ble.”
Uncle Naboth stared at him. My father coolly filled his pipe again. The man’s quick eye caught Joe and I exchanging smiling glances, and he frowned slightly.