“I’ve seen that fellow before somewhere,” he said, as he sat with Hash at a table by the window.
“’Ave you?” said Hash, and there was such a manifest lack of interest in his tone that Sam, surprised at his curtness, awoke to the realisation that he had not yet ordered refreshment. He repaired the omission and Hash’s drawn face relaxed.
“Hash,” said Sam, “I owe you a lot.”
“Me?” said Hash blankly.
“Yes. You remember that photograph I showed you?”
“The girl—Nimrod?”
“Yes. Hash, I’ve found her, and purely owing to you. If you hadn’t taken that money it would never have happened.”
Mr. Todhunter, though he was far from understanding, endeavoured to assume a simper of modest altruism. He listened attentively while Sam related the events of the night.
“And I’ve taken the house next door,” concluded Sam, “and I move in to-day. So, if you want a shore job, the post of cook in the Shotter household is open. How about it?”