d led the way into the garden.

Captain Bostock met the party: he was a slow, sour old man, with fishy
eyes; greeted Tommy offhand, and (as was afterwards remembered)
exchanged winks with the driver.

"A bottle of beer for the cabman there at that table," said Tom.
"Whatever you please from shandy-gaff to champagne at this one here; and
you sit down with us. Let me make you acquainted with my friend Mr.
Carthew. I've come on business, Billy; I want to consult you as a
friend; I'm going into the island trade upon my own account."

Doubtless the captain was a mine of counsel, but opportunity was denied
him. He could not venture on a statement, he was scarce allowed to
finish a phrase, before Hadden swept him from the field with a volley of
protest and correction. That projector, his face blazing with
inspiration, first laid before him at inordinate length a question, and
as soon as he attempted to reply, leaped at his throat, called his facts
into question, derided his policy, and at times thundered on him from
the heights of moral indignation.

"I beg your pardon," he said once. "I am a gentleman, Mr. Carthew here
is a gentleman, and we don't mean to do that class of business. Can't
you see who you are talking to? Can't you talk sense? Can't you give us
'a dead bird' for a good traderoom?"

"No, I don't suppose I can," returned old Bostock; "not when I can't
hear my own voice for two seconds together. It was gin and guns I did it
with."

"Take your gin and guns to Putney," cried Hadden. "It was the thing in
your times, that's right enough; but you're old now, and the game's up.
I'll tell you what's wanted nowadays, Bill Bostock," said he; and did,
and took ten minutes to it.

Carthew could not refrain from smiling. He began to think less seriously
of the scheme, Hadden appearing too irresponsible a guide; but on the
other hand, he enjoyed himself amazingly. It was far from being the same
with Captain Bostock.

"You know a sight, don't you?" remarked that gentleman bitterly, when
Tommy paused.

"I know a sight more than you, if that's what you mean," retorted Tom.
"It stands to reason I do. You're not a man of any education; you've
been all your life at sea, or in the islands; you don't suppose you can
give points to a man like me."

"Here's your health, Tommy," returned Bostock. "You'll make an A1 bake
in the New Hebrides."

"That's what I call talking," cried Tom, not perhaps grasping the
spirit of this d