“And now,” said the visitor, musingly—“now for the police.”
“Police!” repeated Mr. Smith, almost hastily. “What for?”
“Why, to find the captain,” said Mr. Swann, in a surprised voice.
Mr. Smith shook his head. “You'll offend the cap'n bitter if you go to the police about 'im, sir,” he declared. “His last words to me was, 'Smith, 'ave this kept quiet.'”
“It'll be a little job for the police,” urged the shipbroker. “They don't have much to do down here; they'll be as pleased as possible.”
“They'll worry your life out of you, sir,” said the other. “You don't know what they are.”
“I like a little excitement,” returned Mr. Swann. “I don't suppose they'll trouble me much, but they'll turn your place topsy-turvy, I expect. Still, that can't be helped. You know what fools the police are; they'll think you've murdered the captain and hidden his body under the boards. They'll have all the floors up. Ha, ha, ha!”
“'Aving floors up don't seem to me to be so amusing as wot it does to you,” remarked Mr. Smith, coldly.
“They may find all sorts of treasure for you,” continued his visitor. “It's a very old house, Smith, and there may be bags of guineas hidden away under the flooring. You may be able to retire.”
“You're a gentleman as is fond of his joke, Mr. Swann,” returned the boarding-master, lugubriously. “I wish I'd got that 'appy way of looking at things you 'ave.”