"What a discreet general you would make! Upon my word I think you ought to go to California. San Francisco is the place for one so daring and so cautious. What a dashing cavalry leader you would make! And yet it would be a pity to throw you away on cavalry. Your natural place would be in the engineers."
Mr. Grey half closed his eyes, and gazed dreamily for a few seconds at the reclining figure of the man before him. Then hitching his chair a few inches nearer to the small table standing between him and Farleg, he said, in a drawling tone, as he softly slipped his hand into the drawer:
"I admire you for your ingenuity in availing yourself of that ladder, and for your boldness in entering the house in daylight. But I am completely carried away with enthusiasm when I think of your coming here to me, telling me this tale, and preserving the admirable calmness which you display. Indeed, Joe, I am amazed."
"Thank you, sir."
"Now, how much money did you think I'd be likely to give to help you out of this scrape, and out of this country?"
"Mr. Grey, you're a rich man."
The banker bowed and smiled.
"And that ring ought to be worth a heap of money to you."
"A guinea, or perhaps thirty shillings. At the very most I should say two pounds."
"But, sir, considering that it was your wife's, and that she wore it on the very day——"