“Why do we want to visit this old ruffian?” he asked.

“You wait till you hear him,” replied Tommy.  “That man knows everything.”

On descending from the hansom at the Currency Lass, Hadden was struck with the appearance of the cabman, a gross, salt-looking man, red-faced, blue-eyed, short-handed and short-winded, perhaps nearing forty.

“Surely I know you?” said he.  “Have you driven me before?”

“Many’s the time, Mr. Hadden,” returned the driver.  “The last time you was back from the islands, it was me that drove you to the races, sir.”

“All right:  jump down and have a drink then,” said Tom, and he turned and led the way into the garden.

Captain Bostock met the party:  he was a slow, sour old man, with fishy eyes; greeted Tommy offhand, and (as was afterwards remembered) exchanged winks with the driver.

“A bottle of beer for the cabman there at that table,” said Tom.  “Whatever you please from shandygaff to champagne at this one here; and you sit down with us.  Let me make you acquainted with my friend, Mr. Carthew.  I’ve come on business, Billy; I want to consult you as a friend; I’m going into the island trade upon my own account.”

Doubtless the captain was a mine of counsel, but opportunity was denied him.  He could not venture on a statement, he was scarce allowed to finish a phrase, before Hadden swept him from the field with a volley of protest and correction.  That projector, his face blazing with inspiration, first laid before him at inordinate length a question, and as soon as he attempted to reply, leaped at his throat, called his facts in question, derided his policy, and at times thundered on him from the heights of moral indignation.

“I beg your pardon,” he said once.  “I am a gentleman, Mr. Carthew here is a gentleman, and we don’t mean to do that class of business.  Can’t you see who you are talking to?  Can’t you talk sense?  Can’t you give us ‘a dead bird’ for a good traderoom?”

“No, I don’t suppose I can,” returned old Bostock; “not when I can’t hear my own voice for two seconds together.  It was gin and guns I did it with.”

“Take your gin and guns to Putney!” cried Hadden.  “It was the thing in your times, that’s right enough; but you’re old now, and the game’s up.  I’ll tell you what’s wanted now-a-days, Bill Bostock,” said he; and did, and took ten minutes to it.

Carthew could not refrain from smiling.  He began to think less seriously of the scheme, Hadden appearing too irresponsible a guide; but on the other hand, he enjoyed himself amazingly.  It was far from being the same with Captain Bostock.

“You know a sight, don’t you?” remarked that gentleman, bitterly, when Tommy paused.

“I know a sight more than you, if that’s what you mean,” retorted Tom.  “It stands to reason I do.  You’re not a man of any education; you’ve been all your life at sea or in the islands; you don’t suppose you can give points to a man like me?”