Part 33 (1/2)

The manager of the Submarine Insurance Company was the most facetious among these gentlemen on hearing the revelations of Mr Jones's ”friend.”

”Can you tell me,” said that gentleman, when he had pumped the ”friend”

dry, ”which of us is likely to receive the distinguished honour of the first visit from Mr Jones?”

”He said summat about your own office, sir,” replied the informer; ”leastwise I think he did, but I ain't quite sartin.”

”H'm! not unlikely,” observed the manager; ”we have had the pleasure of paying him something before to-day. Come here, I will introduce you to an acquaintance of Mr Jones, who takes a deep interest in him. He has just arrived from Ramsgate.”

Opening a door, the manager ushered the informer into a small room where a stout man with peculiarly keen grey eyes was warming himself at the fire.

”Allow me to introduce you, Mr Larks, to a friend of Mr Jones, who may be of some use. I will leave you together for a little,” said the manager, with a laugh, as he retired and shut the door.

It is not necessary that we should enter into details as to how Mr Jones went about the business of drawing his nets ash.o.r.e--so to speak,-- and how those who took a special interest in Mr Jones carefully a.s.sisted him, and, up to a certain point, furthered all his proceedings.

It is sufficient to say that, about a fortnight after his arrival in London--all the preliminary steps having been taken--he presented himself one fine forenoon at the office of the Submarine Insurance Company.

He was received very graciously, and, much to his satisfaction, was told that the claim could now be settled without further delay. Former experience had taught him that such a piece of business was not unusually difficult of settlement, but he was quite charmed by the unwonted facilities which seemed to be thrown in his way in regard to the present affair. He congratulated himself internally, and the manager congratulated him externally, so to speak, by referring to his good fortune in having insured the vessel and cargo to the full amount.

Even the clerks of the establishment appeared to manifest unwonted interest in the case, which gratified while it somewhat surprised Mr Jones. Indeed, the interest deepened to such an extent, and was so obtrusive, that it became almost alarming, so that feelings of considerable relief were experienced by the adventurous man when he at length received a cheque for 300 pounds and left the office with it in his pocket.

In the outer lobby he felt a touch on his arm, and, looking round, met the gaze of a gentleman with peculiarly keen grey eyes. This gentleman made some quiet remarks with reference to Mr Jones being ”wanted,” and when Mr Jones, not relis.h.i.+ng the tone or looks of this gentleman, made a rush at the outer gla.s.s door of the office, an official stepped promptly in front of it, put one hand on the handle, and held up the other with the air of one who should say, ”Excuse me, there is no thoroughfare this way.” Turning abruptly to the left, Mr Jones found himself confronted by another grave gentleman of powerful frame and resolute aspect, who, by a species of magic or sleight of hand known only to the initiated, slipped a pair of steel bracelets on Mr Jones's wrists, and finally, almost before he knew where he was, Mr Jones found himself seated in a cab with the strong gentleman by his side, and the keen grey-eyed gentleman in front of him.

Soon afterwards he found himself standing alone in the midst of an apartment, the chief characteristics of which were, that the furniture was scanty, the size inconveniently little, and the window unusually high up, besides being heavily barred, and ridiculously small.

Here let us leave him to his meditations.

One fine forenoon--many weeks after the capture of Morley Jones--d.i.c.k Moy, Jack Shales, and Jerry MacGowl were engaged in painting and repairing buoys in the Trinity store on the pier at Ramsgate. The two former were enjoying their month of service on sh.o.r.e, the latter was on sick-leave, but convalescent. Jack was painting squares of alternate black and white on a buoy of a conical shape. d.i.c.k was vigorously sc.r.a.ping sea-weed and barnacles off a buoy of a round form. The store, or big shed, was full of buoys of all shapes; some new and fresh, others old and rugged; all of them would have appeared surprisingly gigantic to any one accustomed to see buoys only in their native element. The invalid sat on the shank of a mushroom anchor, and smoked his pipe while he affected to superintend the work.

”Sure I pity the poor craturs as is always sick. The mouth o' man can niver tell the blessedness of bein' well, as the pote says,” observed Jerry, with a sigh, as he shook the ashes out of his pipe and proceeded to refill it. ”Come now, Jack Shales,” he added, after a short pause, ”ye don't call that square, do 'ee?”

”I'll paint yer nose black if you don't shut up,” said Jack, drawing the edge of a black square with intense caution, in order to avoid invading the domain of a white one.

”Ah! you reminds me of the owld proverb that says somethin' about a.s.ses gittin impudent an' becomin' free with their heels when lions grow sick.”

”Well, Jerry,” retorted Jack, with a smile, as he leaned back and regarded his work with his head very much on one side, and his eyes partially closed, after the manner of knights of the brush, ”I'm not offended, because I'm just as much of an a.s.s as you are of a lion.”

”I say, mates,” remarked d.i.c.k Moy, pausing in his work, and wiping his brow, ”are 'ee aweer that the cap'n has ordered us to be ready to start wi' the first o' the tide at half after five to-morrow?”

”I knows it,” replied Jack Shales, laying down the black brush and taking up the white one.

”I knows it too,” said Jerry MacGowl, ”but it don't make no manner of odds to me, 'cause I means to stop ash.o.r.e and enjoy meself. I mean to amoose meself with the trial o' that black thief Morley Jones.”

d.i.c.k Moy resumed his work with a grunt, and said that Jerry was a lucky fellow to be so long on sick-leave, and Jack said he wished he had been called up as a witness in Jones's case, for he would have cut a better figure than Jim Welton did.

”Ay, boy,” said d.i.c.k Moy, ”but there wos a reason for that. You know the poor feller is in love wi' Jones's daughter, an' he didn't like for to help to convict his own father-in-law _to be_, d'ye see? That's where it is. The boy Billy Towler was a'most as bad. He's got a weakness for the gal too, an' no wonder, for she's bin as good as a mother to 'im. They say that Billy nigh broke the hearts o' the lawyers, he wos so stoopid at sometimes, an' so oncommon cute at others.

But it warn't o' no use. Jim's father was strong in his evidence agin him, an' that Mr Larks, as comed aboard of the Gull, you remember, he had been watching an' ferreting about the matter to that extent that he turned Jones's former life inside out. It seems he's bin up to dodges o' that kind for a long time past.”

”No! has he?” said Jack Shales.

”Arrah, didn't ye read of it?” exclaimed Jerry MacGowl.

”No,” replied Jack drily; ”not bein' on the sick-list I han't got time to read the papers, d'ye see?”