“It may be my stupidity, but I have not the least idea.”
“Do you mean to say that you don’t know George Kingdon’s taken my ship from me?”
“Taken her from you? I don’t understand. I understood that. The Flying Scud was the property of Messrs.”
“Staple, Wainwright and Friscoe; that’s so. That’s the name and title of the firm; they’re the owners. But I was in command of her the last three voyages; and when I brought her home I was hoping it was for the last time.”
“It seems that your hope was justified.”
“Are you laughing at me, Mr. Paine? Because, if you are, take my tip and don’t. I don’t mind being laughed at in a general way; but this is a subject on which I bar so much as a smile. I’m too sore, sir, too sore. Do you know the circumstances under which I got chucked from The Flying Scud?”
“I do not. May I ask if that is the matter on which you are seeking my advice?”
“Well,” he began, pulling at his beard again, hesitating, as if fearing to say too much. “What I want to know is, are your sympathies with the owner, with Kingdon, or with me?”
“Since I know nothing of what you are referring to, what answer do you expect me to give? So far as I am concerned, you are talking in riddles.”
“Look here, Mr. Paine, I’ll make a clean breast of the whole thing. Gardiner told me you were a decent sort, so I’ll take his word for it. You see before you the best done man in London—in England—in the world, for all I know. Done all round! I knew I was taking a certain risk, but I didn’t know it was a risk in that particular direction, and that’s where I was had. I saw my way to a real big thing. I went for it, shoved on all steam; brought the ship home, pretty well empty as she was; then got diddled. So, when I laid
