“Bah!” retorted Raleigh.  “You might as well offer us a pair of skates.”

“I would, if I thought the river’d freeze,” retorted Charon, blandly.

Raleigh and Hamlet turned away impatiently and left Charon to his own devices, which for the time being consisted largely of winking his other eye quietly and outwardly making a great show of grief.

“He’s too canny for us, I am afraid,” said Sir Walter.  “We’ll have to pay him his money.”

“Let us first consult Sherlock Holmes,” suggested Hamlet, and this they proceeded at once to do.

“There is but one thing to be done,” observed the astute detective after he had heard Sir Walter’s statement of the case.  “It is an old saying that one should fight fire with fire.  We must meet modern business methods with modern commercial ideas.  Charter his vessel at his own price.”

“But we’d never be able to pay,” said Hamlet.

“Ha-ha!” laughed Holmes.  “It is evident that you know nothing of the laws of trade nowadays.  Don’t pay!”

“But how can we?” asked Raleigh.

“The method is simple.  You haven’t anything to pay with,” returned Holmes.  “Let him sue.  Suppose he gets a verdict.  You haven’t anything he can attach—­if you have, make it over to your wives or your fiancees.”

“Is that honest?” asked Hamlet, shaking his head doubtfully.

“It’s business,” said Holmes.

“But suppose he wants an advance payment?” queried Hamlet.

“Give him a check drawn to his own order.  He’ll have to endorse it when he deposits it, and that will make him responsible,” laughed Holmes.

“What a simple thing when you understand it!” commented Raleigh.

“Very,” said Holmes.  “Business is getting by slow degrees to be an exact science.  It reminds me of the Brighton mystery, in which I played a modest part some ten years ago, when I first took up ferreting as a profession.  I was sitting one night in my room at one of the Brighton hotels, which shall be nameless.  I never give the name of any of the hotels at which I stop, because it might give offence to the proprietors of other hotels, with the result that my books would be excluded from sale therein.  Suffice it to say that I was spending an early summer Sunday at Brighton with my friend Watson.  We had dined well, and were enjoying our evening smoke together upon a small balcony overlooking the water, when there came a timid knock on the door of my room.

“‘Watson,’ said I, ’here comes some one for advice.  Do you wish to wager a small bottle upon it?’

“‘Yes,’ he answered, with a smile.  ’I am thirsty and I’d like a small bottle; and while I do not expect to win, I’ll take the bet.  I should like to know, though, how you know.’