“Alas, no, sir,” says Jack.  “We are but two poor shopkeepers of London undone by the great fire.”

“Well now, sir,” says Mr. Hopkins, fetching an inkpot, a pen, and a piece of paper from his pocket.  “I may conclude that you wish me to adventure upon the redemption of these two ladies in Barbary, upon the hazard of being repaid by Mrs. Godwin when she recovers her estate.”  And the Don making him a reverence, he continues, “We must first learn the extent of our liabilities.  What sum is to be paid to Bare ben Moula?”

“Five thousand gold ducats—­about two thousand pounds English.”

“Two thousand,” says Mr. Hopkins, writing.  “Then, Robert Evans, what charge is yours for fetching the ladies from Dellys?”

“Master Hopkins, I have said fifteen hundred pounds,” says he, “and I won’t go from my word though all laugh at me for a madman.”

“That seems a great deal of money,” says Mr. Hopkins.

“Well, if you think fifteen hundred pounds too much for my carcase and a ship of twenty men, you can go seek a cheaper market elsewhere.”

“You think there is very small likelihood of coming back alive?”

“Why, comrade, ’tis as if you should go into a den of lions and hope to get out whole; for though I have the Duke’s pass, these Moors are no fitter to be trusted than a sackful of serpents.  ’Tis ten to one our ship be taken, and we fools all sold into slavery.”

“Ten to one,” says Mr. Hopkins; “that is to say, you would make this voyage for the tenth part of what you ask were you sure of returning safe.”

“I would go as far anywhere outside the straits for an hundred pounds with a lighter heart.”

Mr. Hopkins nods his head, and setting down some figures on his paper, says: 

“The bare outlay in hard money amounts to thirty-five hundred pounds.  Reckoning the risk at Robert Evans’ own valuation (which I take to be a very low one), I must see reasonable prospect of winning thirty-five thousand pounds by my hazard.”

“Mrs. Godwin’s estate I know to be worth double that amount.”

“But who will promise me that return?” asks Mr. Hopkins.  “Not you?” (The Don shook his head.) “Not you?” (turning to us, with the same result).  “Not Mrs. Godwin, for we have no means of communicating with her.  Not the steward—­you have shown me that.  Who then remains but this Richard Godwin who cannot be found?  If,” adds he, getting up from his seat, “you can find Richard Godwin, put him in possession of the estate, and obtain from him a reasonable promise that this sum shall be paid on the return of Mrs. Godwin, I may feel disposed to consider your proposal more seriously.  But till then I can do nothing.”

“Likewise, masters all,” says Evans, fetching his hat and shawl from the corner, “I can’t wait for a blue moon; and if so be we don’t sign articles in a week, I’m off of my bargain, and mighty glad to get out of it so cheap.”