"Dunno, I'm sure, sir," replied the old man, scratching his head as he strove to solve the problem. Then, seized with an inspiration, he added: "I'll call my mate. He'll know."
The old fellow glanced up and down the shore, and then regarded the expanse of sea with a watery eye, as if he were looking for his far-distant partner.
"Garge!" he bawled. "Where be to?"
With uncanny suddenness a hulking giant in jersey, heavy cloth trousers, and sea-boots, appeared in a gap in the brushwood that grew almost down to the water's edge. Evidently pal Garge meant to be on the spot—an unseen listener if his partner succeeded in "touching the gent handsomely" or an active participator in any bargaining that might ensue.
"What be the trouble, Jim?" he asked, with an overacted air of disinterestedness.
"This gen'l'man 'ere," replied Jim, "'as come to fetch the lil' dinghy. Wot's a fair sum to charge 'im for our trouble?"
"'Tes for you ter say, Jim," declared Garge. "A fair reasonable sum an' the gen'l'man 'll be only too pleased to square up."
Jim ruminated a good thirty seconds, covertly regarding Mr. Graham with a half averted face.
"Will five quid hurt you?" he asked at length.
"Just the sum as I was a-goin' to suggest," added Garge promptly.