Desmond said no more.  But before he fell asleep that night he had advanced one step further towards freedom.  His request had met with the refusal he had anticipated.  He could hope for no pecuniary assistance; it remained to take the first opportunity of consulting Diggle.  It was Diggle who had suggested India as the field for his ambition; and the suggestion would hardly have been made if there were great obstacles in the way of its being acted on.  Desmond made light of his brother’s command that he should cut Diggle’s acquaintance; it seemed to him only another act of tyranny, and his relations with Richard were such that to forbid a thing was to provoke him to do it.

His opportunity came next day.  Late in the afternoon he met Diggle, as he had done many times before, walking in the fields, remote from houses.  When Desmond caught sight of him, he was sauntering along, his eyes bent upon the ground, his face troubled.  But he smiled on seeing Desmond.

“Well met, friend,” he said; “leni perfruor otio—­which is as much as to say—­I bask in idleness.  Well, now, I perceive in your eye that you have been meditating my counsel.  ’Tis well, friend Desmond, and whereto has your meditation arrived?”

“I have thought over what you said.  I do wish to get away from here; I should like to go to India; indeed, I asked my brother to advance a part of some money that is to come to me, so that I might obtain service with the Company; but he refused.”

“And you come to me for counsel.  ’Tis well done, though I trow your brother would scarce be pleased to hear of it.”

“He forbade me to speak to you.”

“Egad, he did!  Haec summa est!  What has he against me?—­a question to be asked.  I am a stranger in these parts:  that is ill; and buffeted by fortune:  that is worse; and somewhat versed in humane letters:  that, to the rustic intelligence, is a crime.  Well, my lad, you have come to the right man at the right time.  You are acquainted with my design shortly to return to the Indies—­a rare field for a lad of mettle.  You shall come with me.”

“But are you connected with the Company?  None other, I believed, has a right to trade.”

“The Company!  Sure, my lad, I am no friend to the Company, a set of stiff-necked, ignorant, grasping, paunchy peddlers who fatten at home on the toil of better men.  No, I am an adventurer, I own it; I am an interloper; and we interlopers, despite the Company’s monopoly, yet contrive to keep body and soul together.”

“Then I should not sail to India on a Company’s ship?”

“Far from it, indeed.  But let not that disturb you, there are other vessels.  And for the passage—­why, sure I could find you a place as supercargo or some such thing; you would thus keep the little money you have and add to it, forming a nest egg which, I say it without boasting, I could help you to hatch into a fine brood.  I am not without friends in the Indies, my dear boy;