“Yes, sir.”
“But, Voules, old man,” I said, “be sensible. What would you gain by it?”
“Financially, sir, nothing.”
“Whereas, by keeping quiet”—I tapped him on the chest—“by holding your tongue, Voules, by saying nothing about it to anybody, Voules, old fellow, you might gain a considerable sum.”
“Am I to understand, sir, that, because you are rich and I am poor, you think that you can buy my self-respect?”
“Oh, come!” I said.
“How much?” said Voules.
So we switched to terms. You wouldn’t believe the way the man haggled. You’d have thought a decent, faithful servant would have been delighted to oblige one in a little matter like that for a fiver. But not Voules. By no means. It was a hundred down, and the promise of another hundred when we had got safely away, before he was satisfied. But we fixed it up at last, and poor old George got down to his state-room and changed his clothes.
He’d hardly gone when the breakfast-party came on deck.
“Did you meet him?” I asked.