Nothing like the old country, after all, says he. . . And so we
part--I with more drinks in me than I was used to. After a time,
perhaps six months or so, I run up against him again in Mr. George
Dunbar's office. Yes, THAT office. It wasn't often that I . . .
However, there was a bit of his cargo in a ship in dock that I
wanted to ask Mr. George about. In comes Cloete out of the room at
the back with some papers in his hand. Partner. You understand?"

"Aha!" I said. "The few hundred pounds."

"And that tongue of his," he growled. "Don't forget that tongue.
Some of his tales must have opened George Dunbar's eyes a bit as to
what business means."

"A plausible fellow," I suggested.

"H'm! You must have it in your own way--of course. Well.
Partner. George Dunbar puts his top-hat on and tells me to wait a
moment. . . George always looked as though he were making a few
thousands a year--a city swell. . . Come along, old man! And he
and Captain Harry go out together--some business with a solicitor
round the corner. Captain Harry, when he was in England, used to
turn up in his brother's office regularly about twelve. Sat in a
corner like a good boy, reading the paper and smoking his pipe. So
they go out. . . Model brothers, says Cloete--two love-birds--I am
looking after the tinned-fruit side of this cozy little show. . .
Gives me that sort of talk. Then by-and-by: What sort of old
thing is that Sagamore? Finest ship out--eh? I dare say all ships
are fine to you. You live by them. I tell you what; I would just
as soon put my money into an old stocking. Sooner!"