“The what?”
“‘The Billy Rough ’un’—arter the ship o’ that name, you know—”
“Oh! you mean the Bellerophon.”
“Well, young man, an’ didn’t I say the ‘Billy Rough ’un’? Then there’s the— But what’s your hurry?” said the seaman, as Miles rose.
“It’s getting late now, friend. If I’m to find another lodging I must be off. Doubtless, I’ll find some respectable house to take me in for the night.” Miles suppressed a yawn as he put on his cap.
“I don’t believe you will,” returned Molloy, also rising, and giving full vent to a sympathetic and vociferous yawn. “Hows’ever, w’en a young feller insists on havin’ his way, it’s best to give him plenty of cable and let him swing. He’s sure to find out his mistake by experience. But look ye here, Miles, I’ve took a fancy to you, an’ I’d be sorry to think you was in difficulties. If,” he continued, thrusting a hand into his breeches-pocket, and bringing up therefrom a mass of mixed gold, silver, and copper—“if you don’t objec’ to accep’ of a loan of—”
“Thank you—no, my friend. It is very kind of you,” said Miles quickly; “but I have quite enough for present necessities. So good-night.”
“All right,” returned the sailor, thrusting the money back into his pocket. “But if you should ever want a jaw with Jack Molloy while you’re in this here port you’ve only got to hail him at the Sailors’ Welcome, an’ if he should happen to be out, they always can tell you where he’s cruisin’. Good-night, an’ luck go wi’ ye!”
Another tremendous yawn finished the speech, and next moment Miles found himself in the street, oppressed with a strange and miserable sensation which he had never before experienced. Indeed, he had to lean against the house for a few minutes after coming out into the fresh air, and felt as if the power of connected thought was leaving him.
He was aroused from this condition by the flashing of a light in his eyes. Opening them wide, he beheld a policeman looking at him earnestly.