"Perhaps it would, but I shall lie awake on those terms."
"Don't be bigoted, my dear fellow. Of course I prescribe the whiskey as a medicine."
"You are no surgeon."
"It would quiet your nerves."
"Let them kick, if nothing but whiskey will quiet them," laughed Somers. "Seriously, Mr. Pillgrim, I am very much obliged to you for your kindness, and for your interest in me; but I think I shall be better without the whiskey than with it."
"As you please, Somers. If you are up when I return, I will tell you what I find at the house."
"Thank you; I will leave my door unfastened."
Mr. Pillgrim left the room to make his perilous examination of the locality of his friend's misfortunes. Somers walked the apartment, nervous and excited, considering the events of the evening. He then seated himself, and carefully wrote out the statement of Coles in regard to the Ben Nevis, and the method by which he purposed to operate in getting her to sea as a Confederate cruiser, with extended memoranda of all the conversation to which he had listened. Before he had finished this task, Lieutenant Pillgrim returned.
"It is all right," said he, as he entered the room.
"What's all right?"