what you always say."

"You've a monstrous constitution, Sylvanus. If I drank port and smoked
cigars and sat up till one o'clock, I should be in my grave to-morrow.
I'm not the man I was. The fact is, I've come to see if you can help me.
I'm getting old; I'm growing nervous...."

"You always were as chickeny as an old hen, Joe."

"Well, my nature's not like yours. To come to the point, I want to sell
my ships and retire. I need rest. Freights are very depressed. I've got
my family to think of."

"Crack on, and go broke; buck you up like anything!"

"I'm quite serious, Sylvanus."

"Never knew you anything else, Joe."

A quavering cough, and out it had come:

"Now--in a word--won't your 'Island Navigation Company' buy my ships?"

A pause, a twinkle, a puff of smoke. "Make it worth my while!" He
had said it in jest; and then, in a flash, the idea had come to him.
Rosamund and her youngsters! What a chance to put something between them
and destitution when he had joined the majority! And so he said: "We
don't want your silly ships."

That claw of a hand waved in deprecation. "They're very good
ships--doing quite well. It's only my wretched health. If I were a
strong man I shouldn't dream...."

"What d'you want for 'em?" Good Lord! how he jumped if you asked him a
plain question. The chap was as nervous as a guinea-fowl!

"Here are the figures--for the last four years. I think you'll agree
that I couldn't ask less than seventy thousand."

Through the smoke of his cigar old Heythorp had digested those figures
slowly, Joe Pillin feeling his teeth and sucking lozenges the while;
then he said:

"Sixty thousand! And out of that you pay me ten per cent., if I get it
through for you. Take it or leave it."

"My dear Sylvanus, that's almost-cynical."

"Too good a price--you'll never get it without me."

"But a--but a commission! You could never disclose it!"

"Arrange that all right. Think it over. Freights'll go lower yet. Have
some port."

"No, no! Thank you. No! So you think freights will go lower?"

"Sure of it."

"Well, I'll be going. I'm sure I don't know. It's--it's--I must think."

"Think your hardest."

"Yes, yes. Good-bye. I can't imagine how you still go on smoking those
things and drinking port.

"See you in your grave yet, Joe." What a feeble smile the poor fellow
had! Laugh-he couldn't! And, alone again, he had browsed, developing the
idea which had come to him.

Though, to dwell in the