“There’s San Quentin, to start in with,” said the captain; “and suppose you clear the penitentiary, there’s the nasty taste in the mouth.  The figure’s big enough to make bad trouble, but it’s not big enough to be picturesque; and I should guess a man always feels kind of small who has sold himself under six cyphers.  That would be my way, at least; there’s an excitement about a million that might carry me on; but the other way, I should feel kind of lonely when I woke in bed.  Then there’s Speedy.  Do you know him well?”

“No, I do not,” said I.

“Well, of course he can vamoose with the entire speculation, if he chooses,” pursued the captain, “and if he don’t I can’t see but what you’ve got to support and bed and board with him to the end of time.  I guess it would weary me.  Then there’s Mr. Pinkerton, of course.  He’s been a good friend to you, hasn’t he?  Stood by you, and all that? and pulled you through for all he was worth?”

“That he has,” I cried; “I could never begin telling you my debt to him!”

“Well, and that’s a consideration,” said the captain.  “As a matter of principle, I wouldn’t look at this business at the money.  ’Not good enough,’ would be my word.  But even principle goes under when it comes to friends—­the right sort, I mean.  This Pinkerton is frightened, and he seems sick; the medico don’t seem to care a cent about his state of health; and you’ve got to figure how you would like it if he came to die.  Remember, the risk of this little swindle is all yours; it’s no sort of risk to Mr. Pinkerton.  Well, you’ve got to put it that way plainly, and see how you like the sound of it:  my friend Pinkerton is in danger of the New Jerusalem, I am in danger of San Quentin; which risk do I propose to run?”

“That’s an ugly way to put it,” I objected, “and perhaps hardly fair.  There’s right and wrong to be considered.”

“Don’t know the parties,” replied Nares; “and I’m coming to them, anyway.  For it strikes me, when it came to smuggling opium, you walked right up?”

“So I did,” I said; “sick I am to have to say it!”

“All the same,” continued Nares, “you went into the opium-smuggling with your head down; and a good deal of fussing I’ve listened to, that you hadn’t more of it to smuggle.  Now, maybe your partner’s not quite fixed the same as you are; maybe he sees precious little difference between the one thing and the other.”

“You could not say truer:  he sees none, I do believe,” cried I; “and though I see one, I could never tell you how.”

“We never can,” said the oracular Nares; “taste is all a matter of opinion.  But the point is, how will your friend take it?  You refuse a favour, and you take the high horse at the same time; you disappoint him, and you rap him over the knuckles.  It won’t do, Mr. Dodd; no friendship can stand that.  You must be as good as your friend, or as bad as your friend, or start on a fresh deal without him.”