“Yes, sir. Came up this morning. I’ve been waiting at the office pretty much all day”—
“Indeed. I’m sorry, captain. But, for a wonder, Lafitte came to town, and I’ve been showing him round.”
Captain Bangham started, and slapped his hips with his hands.
“Lafitte in town!” he burst out. “Which one of ’em?”
“Lafitte the younger. Torwood, you know,” returned the merchant, taking an easy chair.
“The hell he is!” ejaculated the profane captain, reddening, and thrusting both hands into his pocket. “You don’t mean to say he’s down-stairs now?”
“Why Bangham, what in the world’s the matter with you, man?” said the surprised merchant, staring at him. “Down stairs? Of course he’s down stairs. Come to dine with us.”
“Well, I’m damned!” vociferated the excited captain. “If this ain’t horrid.”
He stamped off, with his hands in his pocket, while Mr. Atkins stared at him, as if he thought the man had gone mad.
“Captain Bangham,” said the merchant, slowly, “will you be so good as to tell me what you mean by this extraordinary ebullition. What’s the matter? Isn’t the Soliman all right? Has the cargo”—