Mr Durfy started and coloured up, and then looked first at Mr Medlock and then at Mr Shanklin.
“What’s the matter? Do you think you’d suit the place?” asked the former, with a laugh.
“No; but I know who will!”
“You do! Who?”
“A young puppy under me at the Rocket?” said Durfy, excitedly; “the very man to a T!” And he thereupon launched into a description of Reginald’s character in a way which showed that not only was he a shrewd observer of human nature in his way, but, when it served his purpose, could see the good even in a man he hated.
“I tell you,” said he, “he’s born for you, if you can only get him! And if you don’t think so after what I’ve said, perhaps you’ll believe me when I tell you, on the quiet, he knocked me down in the gutter this very evening because I wanted to carry off a young convert of his to make a night of it at the Alhambra. There, what do you think of that? I wouldn’t tell tales of myself like that for fun, I can tell you!”
“There’s no mistake about that being the sort of chap we want,” said Mr Medlock.
“If only we can get hold of him,” said Mr Shanklin.
“Leave that to me,” said Mr Durfy; “only if he comes to you never say a word about me, or he’ll shy off.”
Whereupon these three guileless friends finished their glasses and separated in great good spirits and mutual admiration.