“Certainly not,” replied Marmaduke.
“There’s family affection for you, Uncle Edward! I’ve come half-way round the earth to see him, and—say, will you lend me a fiver?”
“If you need it,” said Marmaduke in a dignified way, “I shall be very happy to advance you five pounds.”
Oliver brought the little party to a halt and burst into laughter.
“I believe you good people think I’ve come back broke to the world. The black sheep returned like a wolf to the fold. Only Peggy drew a correct inference from the valet—wait till you see him! As Peggy said, I’ve been getting on.” He laid a light hand on the Dean’s shoulder. “While all you folks in Durdlebury, especially my dear Doggie, for the last ten years have been durdling, I’ve been doing. I’ve not come all this way to tap relations for five-pound notes. I’m swaggering into the City of London for Capital—with a great big C.”
Marmaduke twirled his little moustache. “You’ve taken to company promoting,” he remarked acidly.
“I have. And a damn—I beg your pardon, Uncle Edward—we poor Pacific Islanders lisp in damns for want of deans to hold us up—and a jolly good company too. We—that’s I and another man—that’s all the company as yet—two’s company, you know—own a trading fleet.”
“You own ships?” cried Peggy.
“Rather. Own ’em, sail ’em, navigate ’em, stoke ’em, clean out the boilers, sit on the safety valves when we want to make speed, do every old thing——”
“And what do you trade in?” asked the Dean.