In a moment afterwards the door opened, and a tall man, of rather handsome exterior, whom it would have been impossible to have recognised as the Captain Compass of the Albatross, had it not been for a peculiar expression in the countenance—sarcastic, bold, and treacherous—no one could mistake, entered the room. His whiskers had disappeared, the colour of his hair had changed, and he looked a much younger and better featured man than he appeared the day previous. As he advanced, the broker seemed to gaze upon him with fear and wonder.
“Well, old Boor, is this the hail I’m to meet after such a long cruise?” cried the captain.
Boor stared till his yellow eye-balls appeared starting out of his head.
“Dockets and bad bills!” at last he exclaimed, with a long breath, “surely it can’t be you!”
“But it is, though, old boy, and I’m afloat in the most slappish style,” replied the other.
“But how did you escape, when——”
“No matter,” said the captain, interrupting his companion. “I’m come to have a little bit of a confabulation with you about a matter that will enrich us both.”
“This way, my good friend,” hastily whispered the broker, leading his associate cautiously to a little door at the further extremity of the room, which opened into a smaller apartment, filled with iron safes, papers, and books. “This way, captain—this way,” added he; then turning to his clerk, said, “Don’t let me be interrupted, Quagga,” as the door opened and closed upon the pair: and there they remained in close conference for a full hour, to the great mystification of the principal clerk. When they returned, the features of the captain wore an air of triumph, and the countenance of Boor expressed all the congratulation of successful cunning.
“Every thing shall be managed according to your desire, captain,” he remarked.
“Be cautious,” said the other.