“Thank’ee, an’ I’d foller yer advice, but I happens to know this land-shark. He’s an old acquaintance, an’ I can trust him.”
“Oh, that alters the case—well?”
“Well, but before I go,” continued Gaff, “I wants to write a letter to old Stuart to warn him to look arter Emmie; a very partikler letter.”
“Ay, how much partikler a one?” inquired Haco.
“A hambigoo-ous one,” replied his friend.
“A ham—what?” said Haco interrogatively.
“A ham-big-oo-ous one.”
“What sort of a one may that be, mate?”
“Well,” said Gaff, knitting his heavy brows, and assuming altogether a learned aspect, “it’s a one that you can’t make head nor tail of nohow; one as’ll read a’rnost as well back’ard as for’ard, an’ yet has got a smack o’ somethin’ mysterious in it, w’ich shows, so to speak, to what pint o’ the compass your steerin’ for—d’ye see?”
“H’m—rather hazy ahead,” answered the skipper with a deeply sagacious look; “a difficult letter to write in my opinion. How d’ye mean to do it?”