[Illustration: "Tapping the steward on the chest with a confidential
finger, he backed him into a corner."]
"I thought you'd be alone," he said, looking round, "but p'r'aps it's
just as well as it is. They've got to know, so they may as well know now
as later on."
"Know what?" inquired Jack Nugent, abruptly. "What are you making that
face for, Sam?"
Mr. Wilks mumbled something about a decayed tooth, and to give colour to
the statement continued a series of contortions which made his face ache.
"You should take something for that tooth," said the boarding-master,
with great solicitude. "Wot do you say to a glass o' whisky?"
He motioned to the fatal bottle, which still stood on the table; the
steward caught his breath, and then, rising to the occasion, said that he
had already had a couple of glasses, and they had done no good.
"What's your message?" inquired Jack Nugent, impatiently.
"I'm just going to tell you," said Mr. Smith. "I was out early this
morning, strolling down by the harbour to get a little appetite for
breakfast, when who should I see coming along, looking as though 'e 'ad
just come from a funeral, but Cap'n Nugent! I was going to pass 'im, but
he stopped me and asked me to take a message from 'im to 'is old and
faithful steward, Mr. Wilks."
"Why, has he gone away?" exclaimed Mrs.
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