"All I know about genius, as you call it is the Flying Dutchman, or some such odd out of the way fish. But, as I said, I am not one to spoil sport, nor more is the admiral. Oh, no, we is all true men and good."
"I believe it," said Varney, bowing politely.
"You needn't keep your figure-head on the move; I can see you just as well. Howsoever, as I was saying, I don't like to spoil sport, and sooner than both parties should be disappointed, my principal shall become your second, Sir Francis."
"What, Admiral Bell?" exclaimed Varney, lifting his eyebrows with surprise.
"What, Charles Holland's uncle!" exclaimed Mr. Chillingworth, in accents of amazement.
"And why not?" said Jack, with great gravity. "I will pledge my word—Jack Pringle's word—that Admiral Bell shall be second to Sir Francis Varney, during his scrimmage with Mr. Henry Bannerworth. That will let the matter go on; there can be no back-out then, eh?" continued Jack Pringle, with a knowing nod at Chillingworth as he spoke.
"That will, I hope, remove your scruples, Mr. Chillingworth," said Varney, with a courteous smile.
"But will Admiral Bell do this?"
"His second says so, and has, I daresay, influence enough with him to induce that person to act in conformity with his promise."
"In course he will. Do you think he would be the man to hang back? Oh, no; he would be the last to leave Jack Pringle in the lurch—no. Depend upon it, Sir Francis, he'll be as sure to do what I say, as I have said it."