Three days later, Carthew stood before the lawyer, still in his jean suit, received his hundred and fifty pounds, and proceeded rather timidly to ask for more indulgence.
“I have a chance to get on in the world,” he said. “By to-morrow evening I expect to be part owner of a ship.”
“Dangerous property, Mr. Carthew,” said the lawyer.
“Not if the partners work her themselves and stand to go down along with her,” was the reply.
“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.