“I am two and twenty,” replied Sir Philip.
“Then you are not much more than a year older than Mr. Speers, the second officer; and he is a millionnaire at that.”
“A millionnaire!” exclaimed the baronet.
“Please not mention that, Mr. Frisbone,” interposed Tom, blushing.
“It isn’t your fault, my boy; and I don’t blame you for it,” added the Prince. “He is more than that, Sir Philip: he is a three-millionnaire.”
Tom’s secret had come out in spite of the vigilance with which he had guarded it. The sprigs of nobility made themselves very intimate with him; and all the students wanted to know about it, for most of them could recollect how careful he was of the small store of money he possessed.
“A millionnaire, is he?” said Gregory, in the state-room, for the open-work above the door enabled him to hear every word that was said in that part of the cabin. “And he is a great crony with O’Hara.”
“I should like to get in with such a fellow,” replied Clinch. “But what are we going to do with ourselves? I have had about enough of this life in a state-room.”
“So have I, to be entirely candid,” added Gregory. “The fellows are having a magnificent time, and we are here under lock and key.”
“Are you going to back down?”