“You are welcome to all I know. He told me that the gentleman whose interests he represented had inspected the Tyneshire Glen yesterday and thought she would answer his purpose. The price was satisfactory and he would like a three-days’ option, which I was very willing to give him.”
“And the price was still twenty-four thousand pounds?” violently put in Johnny Kent with a snort as if his steam were rising.
“Precisely twenty-four thousand pounds, or one hundred and twenty thousand dollars of your Yankee currency or thereabouts. Are you thinking of buying her yourself, Johnny?” said Huntley with a broad smile.
“Not on your life,” was the fervent response. “I’d be afraid to sneeze on board of her in the docks for fear her rivets would fly off.”
“Oh, she isn’t as bad as all that. A well-built steamer is the Tyneshire Glen, with lots of service in her.”
“What she needs is a new hull, boilers, and engines,” grunted Johnny. “Say, George Huntley, did this young man, Strothers, mention anything about buyin’ the steamer for a king that is roamin’ around London without any tag to him?”
“A king!” ejaculated the ship-broker, blinking like an astonished owl. “Are you chaps raggin’ me?”
“Maybe the joke is on us, George, or else Cap’n Mike and me have been seein’ visions and hearin’ things that ain’t so.”
Huntley cast an appealing glance at O’Shea, who said:
“’Tis evident that ye are not acquainted with our particular king, George. You do not move in royal circles. We will tell ye the answer later. About this young man that calls himself a baron. Did he leave any address behind him?”