"Did I?" said Bones. "Well, my impression was that I advised you to
get into it as quickly as you possibly could. Have you my letter, dear
old thing?"
"I haven't," said Hamilton.
"Ah," said Bones triumphantly, "there you are! You jolly old rascal,
you are accusing me of putting you off----"
"Will you wait, you talkative devil?" said Hamilton. "I pointed out to
you that the prospects were very alluring. The Company was floated
with a small capital----"
Again Bones interrupted, and this time by rising and walking solemnly
round the table to shake hands with him.
"Hamilton, dear old skipper," he pleaded. "I was a very busy man at
that time. I admit I made a mistake, and possibly diddled you out of a
fortune. But my intention was to write to you and tell you to get into
it, and how I ever came to tell you not to get into it--well, my poor
old speculator, I haven't the slightest idea!"
"The Company----" began Hamilton.
"I know, I know," said Bones, shaking his head sadly and fixing his
monocle--a proceeding rendered all the more difficult by the fact that
his hand never quite overtook his face. "It was an error on my part,
dear old thing. I know the Company well. Makes a huge profit! You
can see the car all over the town. I think the jolly old Partridge----"
"Plover," said Hamilton.
"Plover, I mean. They've got another kind of car called the
Partridge," explained Bones. "Why, it's one of the best in the market.
I thought of buying one myself. And to think that I put you off that
Company! Tut, tut! Anyway, dear old man," he said, brightening up,
"most of the good fish is in the sea, and it only goes bad when it
comes out of the sea. Have you ever noticed that, my dear old
naturalist?"
"Wait a moment. Will you be quiet?" said the weary Hamilton. "I'm
trying to tell you my experiences. I put the money--four thousand
pounds--into this infernal Company.
"Eh?"
"I put the money into the Company, I tell you, against your advice.
The Company is more or less a swindle."
Bones sat down slowly in his chair and assumed his most solemn and
business-like face.
"Of course, it keeps within the law, but it's a swindle, none the less.
They've got a wretched broken-down factory somewhere in the North, and
the only Plover car that's ever been built was made by a Scottish
contractor at a cost of about twice the amount which the Company people
said that they would charge for it."
"What did I say?" said Bones quietly. "Poor old soul, I do not give
advice without considering matters, especially to my dearest friend. A
company like this is obviously a swindle. You can tell by the
appearance of the cars----"