Caleb stared at his old friend in pitying surprise.
“’Doniram,” he said, “you—make—me—weary!”
Then he shook his head sadly and dropped heavily into a chair he had formerly occupied near the merchant’s desk.
“Come,” he said, turning to Brandon, holding out his hand affectionately, “come and sit down here beside me, my lad. We want to know each other better—you and I—and I’ve got a good deal to say to ye.
“Your father’s last words to me was ‘Remember, Cale!’ an’ they referred to the fac’ that he’d left me in charge o’ you—an’ of your property. An’ I’m rememberin’, though that hospital business delayed me a good bit.”
“But, Caleb,” said the merchant nervously, “what will you do about those—those diamonds,” and he looked at Brandon smilingly, “now that that scamp has stolen the captain’s papers?”
“Diamonds?” echoed Brandon.
“Aye, diamonds—lashin’s of ’em!” the sailor declared earnestly. “If yer father was ter be believed—an’ you know whether or not to believe him as well as I—there’s di’monds hid aboard that brig, enough to make you a rich man, my lad.”
“But the papers?” repeated Mr. Pepper.
“Blast the papers!” exclaimed the sailor, slapping his thigh impatiently. “They don’t amount to a row of pins.”