There was no moon that night, the dark face of heaven was powdered with stars, Jupiter hanging like a diamond low in the sky as Felix made his way down to the canal wharf. It was not until he got close up to the barge that he noticed a man standing by her, smoking, his hands in his pockets.
"Fine night," said the man, pleasantly.
"That's quite right," replied Felix, heartily, aloud. Inwardly he told himself, "London man—look out."
"Know much of the barge owners down these parts—eh?" said the stranger, wistfully.
"Can't say as I do," replied Felix in his natural tones, with no assumed accent. "Want work?"
The man sighed. "P'raps I do."
"Better go to the Company's office," suggested Felix.
"So I did. They told me old man Doggett, of the Sarah Dawkes, was wanting a boy. But there's nobody aboard her."
"No. His boy's ill. I'm sleeping in her to oblige the Old Man."
"Oh!" The stranger could not wholly keep his sudden access of interest out of his voice. "Are you the chap that took on the boy's job?"