"Ow, they ain't much use to me, but Bill Stryker's allus willin' to accommodate a friend.... Four quid, you said?"
"Five...."
"They ain't wuth over four to me."
"Very well; make it four," Kirkwood assented contemptuously.
The captain swept the articles into one capacious fist, pivoted on one heel at the peril of his neck, and lumbered unsteadily off to his room. Pausing at the door he turned back in inquiry.
"I sye, 'ow did you come to get the impression there was a party named Almanack aboard this wessel?"
"Calendar—"
"'Ave it yer own wye," Stryker conceded gracefully.
"There isn't, is there?"
"You 'eard me."