“Well, we’ll talk about it when the time comes.  I won’t forget.  Sailors, you know, can’t be expected to understand the value of shops.  Say, James, what does the commodore do all day?”

“Sits in there and adds up his investments.”

“Always doing that—­eh?  Always adding ’em up?  Ah, and you’ve never got a chance of looking over his shoulder, I suppose?”

“Never.”

“You may find that chance, one of these days.  I should like to know, if only for curiosity, what they are and where they are.  He sits in there and adds ’em up.  Yes—­I’ve seen him at it.  There must be thousands by this time.”

“Thousands,” said the assistant, in the belief that the more you add up a sum the larger it grows.

Joe walked into the back shop and tried the safe.

“Where are the keys?” he asked.

“Always in his pocket or on the table before him.  He don’t leave them about.”

“Or you’d ha’ known pretty sharp all there is to know—­eh, my lad?  Well, you’re a foxy one, you are, if ever there was one.  Let’s be pals, you and me.  When the old man goes, you want the shop—­well, I don’t see why you shouldn’t have the shop.  Somebody must have the shop; and it will be mine to do what I please with.  As for his savings, he says they are all for Iris—­well, wills have been set aside before this.  Do you think now, seriously, do you think, James that the old man is quite right—­eh?  Don’t answer in a hurry.  Do you think, now, that he is quite right in his chump?”

James laughed.

“He’s right enough, though he throws away his chances.”

“Throws away his chances.  How the deuce can he be all right then?  Did you ever hear of a bookseller in his right mind throwing away his chances?”

“Why—­no—­for that matter—­”

“Very well, then; for that matter, don’t forget that you’ve seen him throw away all his chances—­all his chances, you said.  You are ready to swear to that.  Most important evidence, that, James.”  James had not said “all,” but he grunted, and the other man went on:  “It may come in useful, this recollection.  Keep your eyes wide-open, my red haired pirate.  As for the moldy old shop, you may consider it as good as your own.  Why, I suppose you’ll get somebody else to handle the paste-brush and the scissors, and tie up the parcels, and water the shop—­eh?  You’ll be too proud to do that for yourself, you will.”

Mr. James grinned and rubbed his hands.

“All your own—­eh?  Well, you’ll wake ’em up a bit, won’t you?”

Mr. James grinned again—­he continued grinning.

“Go on, Mr. Joseph,” he said; “go on—­I like it.”

“Consider the job as settled, then.  As for terms they shall be easy; I’m not a hard man.  And—­I say, Foxy, about that safe?”

Mr. James suddenly ceased grinning, because he observed a look in his patron’s eyes which alarmed him.

“About that safe.  You must find out for me where the old man has put his money, and what it is worth.  Do you hear?  Or else—­”