“What do you call something handsome?” inquired Tillotson, whose pulse was not so feverish as his friend’s.
“Get him safe to London and I’ll stand a fiver,” said Glover. “Now go. I’ll stay here.”
Mr. Tillotson, having got matters on a business footing, went, and, carelessly twisting his small moustache, slowly approached the schooner, on the deck of which was a small boy.
“Is Captain Gething aboard, old man?” inquired Mr. Tillotson, in a friendly voice.
“Down the cabin, I b’lieve,” said Henry, jerking his thumb.
“I should like to see him,” said Mr. Tillotson.
“I’ve got no objection,” said Henry.
Charmed with his success, Mr. Tillotson stepped aboard and looked carelessly round.
“He’s an old friend of mine,” he said confidentially. “What’s that you’re smoking?”
“Shag,” was the reply.