“I conceive it possible you might make something of it in that way,” returned the other. “But are you a seaman? I thought you had been in the diplomatic service.”
“I am an old yachtsman,” said Norris; “and I must do the best I can. A fellow can’t live in New South Wales upon diplomacy. But the point I wish to prepare you for is this. It will be impossible I should present myself here next quarter-day; we expect to make a six months’ cruise of it among the islands.”
“Sorry, Mr. Carthew: I can’t hear of that,” replied the lawyer.
“I mean upon the same conditions as the last,” said Carthew.
“The conditions are exactly opposite,” said the lawyer. “Last time I had reason to know you were in the colony, and even then I stretched a point. This time, by your own confession, you are contemplating a breach of the agreement; and I give you warning if you carry it out, and I receive proof of it (for I will agree to regard this conversation as confidential), I shall have no choice but to do my duty. Be here on quarter-day, or your allowance ceases.”
“This is very hard, and, I think, rather silly,” returned Carthew.
“It is not of my doing. I have my instructions,” said the lawyer.
“And you so read these instructions that I am to be prohibited from making an honest livelihood?” asked Carthew.
“Let us be frank,” said the lawyer; “I find nothing in these instructions about an honest livelihood. I have no reason to suppose my clients care anything about that. I have reason to suppose only one thing—that they mean you shall stay in this colony, and to guess another, Mr. Carthew. And to guess another.”
“What do you mean by that?” asked Norris.