"They are all tarred with the same brush," growled the Doctor—"think their own country the only one in the world, and they themselves its brightest ornament. A conceited, bragging liar I should call him."
"Liver bad this morning," thought Helston.
They went down to Elswick that afternoon and inspected the cruiser which Armstrong's had almost completed. She was, in fact, preparing for her engine and gun trials. She had been built as a speculation, and Helston had eagerly snapped her up for a trifle of £290,000. "We should have made another £20,000 if you hadn't settled at once," said the manager ruefully, "for the Patagonian agent offered us £310,000 next morning."
They next travelled to Birkenhead and saw Laird's destroyer, which was nearly ready for sea, and the armoured cruiser which was to be Helston's flagship, and had been promised in two months.
They were inspecting the cabins aft.
"If I'm coming with you, you'll have to knock those two into one," said the Doctor. "I'm not going to be cramped up in the ordinary cabin at my time of life."
"All right, old chap," replied Helston, giving the necessary directions, "what will happen if you don't get your own way?"
"Invalid myself home," answered the Doctor, with a twinkle in his eye. "Did the Patagonians want this one?"
"Did their best," smiled Helston, "but ready money did the trick."
"It seems to me that someone is very anxious you should not buy your ships, Helston. Somewhat fishy, isn't it?" suggested the Doctor, on their way back to London.