"I should like
to hear what the fellow has to say."
"No, I'll go alone," said his partner; "Smith's a very shy man--painfully
shy. I've run across him once or twice before. He's almost as bashful
and retiring as you are."
Hardy grunted. "If the captain isn't in London, where is he?" he
inquired.
The other shook his head. "I've got an idea," he replied, "but I want to
make sure. Kybird and Smith are old friends, as Nugent might have known,
only he was always too high and mighty to take any interest in his
inferiors. There's something for you to go on."
He bent over his desk again and worked steadily until one o'clock--his
hour for lunching. Then he put on his hat and coat, and after a
comfortable meal sallied out in search of Mr. Smith.
[Illustration: "In search of Mr. Smith."]
The boarding-house, an old and dilapidated building, was in a bystreet
convenient to the harbour. The front door stood open, and a couple of
seamen lounging on the broken steps made way for him civilly as he
entered and rapped on the bare boards with his stick. Mr. Smith,
clattering down the stairs in response, had some difficulty in concealing
his surprise at the visit, but entered genially into a conversation about
the weather, a subject in which he was much interested. When the
ship-broker began to discuss the object of his visit he led him to a
small sitting-room at the back of the house and repeated the information
he had given to Mr.
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