“What do you mean? They oughtn’t to take more than a week surely to go through the papers.”
“Oh, I wasn’t talking about that,” I said. “I was thinking of Mr Smith’s story.”
“Why, what’s up with you, Fred? You’ve gone daft about Mr Smith, surely. What’s strange and sad?”
“The story of his life, Jack. He was once—”
“Stop,” said Jack, firmly. “I dare say it’s all you say, Fred, but I’d rather you didn’t tell it me.”
“Why not?” I said.
“He told it to you, but not to me. If he wants me to know it, he will tell me himself.”
I could not but feel the rebuke. Had I but been as careful of another secret, half my troubles would never have come upon me.
“You are quite right, Jack,” I said. “I know by this time that I should have no business to tell other people’s secrets. But, as it happens, Mr Smith is anxious for me to tell you his story; and that is the reason, I believe, why he has insisted on leaving us together to-night.”
I had launched my ship now!