"He'll have a journey for nothing if he does," I said. "Still, that's his pigeon, not mine."
I took a seat at the table, and, after reading through the various documents, which Mr. Drayton explained to me in turn, I signed the lot one after the other.
"Now we can go straight ahead," he observed, "and get the whole business cleared up. I have sent a line to Bascomb telling him that you are his new employer, so you will be able to go and inspect your property without any fear of his setting the dog on you."
"That's comforting," I said with a laugh. "It would be a rotten beginning to be torn in pieces on one's own landing-stage." I rose from my chair and began to collect my hat and umbrella. "I shall run down there to-morrow or the next day," I added. "It just depends how soon I can leave the ship."
"Well, let's hear how you get on," he said, giving me his hand, "and if I can be of the slightest use to you in any way don't hesitate to let me know. That's the only excuse for a lawyer's existence."
I thanked him once more with a gratitude that was entirely genuine, and, feeling how extraordinarily lucky I was to have dropped across such a good friend just when I needed him, I turned up my collar and set out again on my return journey to Charing Cross.
A clammy, drizzling mist still pervaded everything, but, disdaining a cab in my present high spirits, I strode briskly along over the wet pavements. My inward cheerfulness must to some extent have been reflected in my face, for on two occasions I noticed a draggled-looking passer-by glance rather curiously at me, as though he wondered what on earth I could find to be so happy about on such a damnable afternoon.
When I reached the station I found that my luck was still in. The train I wanted was standing at the platform, and a minute later I was being whirled eastwards in the comfortably padded seat of a half-empty smoker. It had certainly been a well-arranged and satisfying day.
A short walk from Mark Lane, where I got out, brought me to the Docks entrance. The fog here was thicker than ever, and a general air of murky desolation showed that work for the day had come to a compulsory standstill. I had taken my bearings in the morning, however, and, without much fear of missing my way, I struck out into the uninviting gloom.
On the near side of where the Neptune was lying there was a long stretch of empty dock, with a tall, double lamp-post guarding its extreme point. I made this landmark safely, and, keeping the edge of the basin in view on my right, I advanced carefully along the wet cobblestones.