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He saw no letter—nothing like it. He went on board the Minorca, and seeing the[Pg 155] mate at the main-hatch, asked in an off-hand way if a copy of a letter had been found in the cabin, or any other part of the ship that morning. "But you don't say you were paid to do so," answered Greyquill. "Gollies!" exclaimed Maurice. "It's your rabbit foot charm. Where d'you find it, Bill?".

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Short was a large fat man with a pink face, merry little drunken eyes almost buried out of sight in hairy eyebrows and eyelashes; his pear-shaped nose was so purple at the end that it might have been supposed he had just been fighting his way through a hedge full of nettles. He treated his patrons as guests, and of those he knew, would ask familiarly after their relations, and how their businesses went and the like. Anson almost sobbed his relief. "I'll do it," he agreed. "What is it you want'a know, Bill?" The golden head was bowed and when it was raised to him, he saw a deeper color in the cheeks, a softer glow in the eyes. "Come," she said softly, "we must be getting back." Mr Lawrence having meditated awhile, rose from his chest, unclasped his arms, and whistling softly the familiar air of "Wapping Old Stairs," quitted his naked, forlorn, inhospitable berth..