A light dawned on Bones and he brightened visibly.
"Ah, yes, my dear old Pole," he said almost cheerily, "I understand.
You diddled my dear old uncle--bless his heart--out of money, and you
want to pay it back. Fred"--Bones rose and extended his knuckly
hand--"you're a jolly old sportsman, and you can put it there!"
"What I was going to say----" began Fred seriously agitated.
"Not a word. We'll have a bottle on this. What will you
have--ginger-beer or cider?"
Mr. Fred suppressed a shudder with difficulty.
"Wait, wait, Mr. Tibbetts," he begged; "I think I ought to explain. We
did not, of course, knowingly rob your uncle----"
"No, no, naturally," said Bones, with a facial contortion which passed
for a wink. "Certainly not. We business men never rob anybody. Ali,
bring the drinks!"
"We did not consciously rob him," continued Mr. Fred desperately, "but
what we did do---- ah, this is my confession!"
"You borrowed a bit and didn't pay it back. Ah, naughty!" said Bones.
"Out with the corkscrew, Ali. What shall it be--a cream soda or
non-alcoholic ale?"
Mr. Fred looked long and earnestly at the young man.
"Mr. Tibbetts," he said, and suddenly grasped the hand of Bones, "I
hope we are going to be friends. I like you. That's my peculiarity--I
like people or I dislike them. Now that I've told you that we bought
two ships from your uncle for one hundred and forty thousand pounds
when we knew--yes, positively knew--they were worth at least twenty
thousand pounds more--now I've told you this, I feel happier."
"Worth twenty thousand pounds more?" said Bones thoughtfully.
Providence was working overtime for him, he thought.
"Of anybody's money," said Fred stoutly. "I don't care where you go,
my dear chap. Ask Cole--he's the biggest shipping lawyer in this
city--ask my brother, who, I suppose, is the greatest shipping
authority in the world, or--what's the use of asking 'em?--ask
yourself. If you're not Saul Tibbetts all over again, if you haven't
the instinct and the eye and the brain of a shipowner--why, I'm a
Dutchman! That's what I am--a Dutchman!"
He picked up his hat and his lips were pressed tight--a gesture and a
grimace which stood for grim conviction.
"What are they worth to-day?" asked Bones, after a pause.
"What are they worth to-day?" Mr. Fred frowned heavily at the ceiling.
"Now, what are they worth to-day? I forget how much I've spent on
'em--they're in dock now."
Bones tightened his lips, too.
"They're in dock now?" he said. He scratched his nose. "Dear old Fred
Pole," he said, "you're a jolly old soul. By Jove that's not bad!
'Pole' an' 'soul' rhyme--did you notice it?"
Fred had noticed it.
"It's rum," said Bones, shaking his head, "it is rum how things get
about. How did you know, old fellow-citizen, that I was going in for
shippin'?"