“He'd better have had that trip on the whaler,” commented Mr. Swann; “but that is not news. Nathan Smith told it me this morning.”
“Nathan Smith?” repeated the other, in surprise.
“I've done him a little service,” said the invalid. “Got him out of a mess with Garth and Co. He's been here two or three times, and I must confess I find him a most alluring rascal.”
“Birds of a feather—” began Hardy, superciliously.
“Don't flatter me,” said Swann, putting his hand out of the bed-clothes with a deprecatory gesture.
“I am not worthy to sit at his feet. He is the most amusing knave on the coast. He is like a sunbeam in a sick room when you can once get him to talk of his experiences. Have you seen young Nugent lately? Does he seem cheerful?”
“Yes, but he is not,” was the reply.
“Well, it's natural for the young to marry,” said the other, gravely. “Murchison will be the next to go, I expect.”
“Possibly,” returned Hardy, with affected calmness.
“Blaikie was saying something about it this morning,” resumed Swann, regarding him from half-closed lids, “but he was punching and tapping me all about the ribs while he was talking, and I didn't catch all he said, but I think it's all arranged. Murchison is there nearly every day, I understand; I suppose you meet him there?”