rve you right," said another, unkindly; "have more baskets for your
eggs. Knew you'd bring up."

Though Mr. Meyer's eyes sparkled at this, he said nothing, but drank
himself stupid and was assisted home by one of his clerks. From this on,
neglecting his business--excepting to occasionally visit the
bulletins--he spent his time in the Captain's room drinking heavily, and
bemoaning his luck. On the tenth day he read with watery eyes, posted on
the bulletin below the news of the arrival at Gibraltar of the second
boat-load of people, the following:

"Life-buoy of _Royal Age_, London, picked up among wreckage in Lat.
45-20, N. Lon. 54-31, W. Ship _Arctic_, Boston, Capt. Brandt."

"Oh, mine good God," he howled, as he rushed toward the Captain's room.

"Poor devil--poor damn fool of an Israelite," said one observer to
another. "He covered the whole of the _Royal Age_, and the biggest chunk
of the _Titan_. It'll take his wife's diamonds to settle."

Three weeks later, Mr. Meyer was aroused from a brooding lethargy, by a
crowd of shouting underwriters, who rushed into the Captain's room,
seized him by the shoulders, and hurried him out and up to a bulletin.

"Read it, Meyer--read it. What d'you think of it?" With some difficulty
he read aloud, while they watched his face:

"John Rowland, sailor of the _Titan_, with child passenger, name
unknown, on board _Peerless_, Bath, at Christiansand, Norway. Both
dangerously ill. Rowland speaks of ship cut in half night before
loss of _Titan_."

"What do you make of it, Meyer--_Royal Age_, isn't it?" asked one.

"Yes," vociferated another, "I've figured back. Only ship not reported
lately. Overdue two months. Was spoken same day fifty miles east of that
iceberg."

"Sure thing," said others. "Nothing said about it in the captain's
statement--looks queer."

"Vell, vwhat of it," said Mr. Meyer, painfully and stupidly: "dere is a
collision clause in der _Titan's_ policy; I merely bay the money to der
steamship company instead of to der _Royal Age_ beeple."

"But why did the captain conceal it?" they shouted at him. "What's his
object--assured against collision suits?"

"Der looks of it, berhaps--looks pad."

"Nonsense, Meyer, what's the matter with you? Which one of the lost
tribes did you spring from--you're like none of your race--drinking
yourself stupid like a good Christian. I've got a thousand on the
_Titan_, and if I'm to pay it I want to know w