"That will have to be done by professional hands," said the baronet. "If we purchase the Titania, docking and coating the bottom with anti-fouling will be the first job. Right-o; let's call on the agent and prepare to haggle over terms."
The yacht's agent received them without emotion. He was so dubious about selling the vessel, even when there was a "boom" in shipping, that he made no attempt to sing the praises of the neglected maiden. He had had dozens of prospective purchasers during the recent period following the yacht's release from Admiralty service, and every one had gone away without attempting to close with the deal.
"Well, Mr. Strangeways," began Sir Hugh, "you've brought us down here to see a most disreputable old tub."
The agent shrugged his shoulders deprecatingly.
"You asked for particulars, sir, and we sent them," he replied. "She's not like the Asteria and the Falala, both of which are on our books if you wish to inspect. But consider the price asked for the Titania—a mere song."
"That's what I am considering," agreed Sir Hugh, grimly. "By the time she's fitted out, taking into consideration present-day prices of labour and material, she'll cost a small fortune. And even then she won't be a modern vessel by any means. No, sorry to trouble you, but I'm afraid there's nothing doing."
"Perhaps, sir," said Mr. Strangeways, metaphorically grasping at the last straw, "you might care to make an offer?"
"My price is fifteen hundred," declared the baronet promptly. "Not a penny more."
"Impossible, my dear sir," protested the agent, raising his hands in mock dismay.
"Sorry, good morning," said Harborough. "Come along, you fellows; we'll be late for lunch if we don't get a move on."