“Ah, but that’s not got much to do with us,” said Heathcote.
“Well,” said Dick, “we ought to back him right up, while we are at it. Besides, you know, we may still get into a row for letting her go, though she has turned up.”
Altogether the “Firm” were not very sure how far their position was improved by the recovery of the Martha. If Pledge, or any one, chose to tell tales, or if they themselves, in order to extricate Tom White, had to tell tales of themselves, all might yet go wrong. The one good thing, they decided, was that Mr Richardson, when he came to-morrow, would be saved the expense of buying at least one new boat for somebody.
Our heroes, as in duty bound, were at the station to meet the 3:5 train, and give the worthy paterfamilias a reception.
“Hullo, father,” cried Dick, as if he had only parted with his parent five minutes ago, “they’ve found her, I say. Do you see that two-masted collier in the harbour? She picked her up, the day after we slipped her. Isn’t it jolly?”
Mr Richardson certainly looked surprised, and a trifle relieved; but the matter did not yet occur to him in a “jolly” light.
“It’s a good thing she has come back,” said he; “and now, as I have a great deal to do, I’ll say good-bye for the present. I have sent a note to Doctor Winter, to ask him to let you breakfast with me at the ‘George,’ in the morning.”
“Thanks, awfully, sir,” said Coote, beaming all over.
Mr Richardson laughed.
“I’m afraid I only mentioned Basil in my note,” said he, “but I daresay we shall be able to have a meal together later in the day. Good-bye.”