You diddled my dear old uncle--bless his heart--out of money, and you want to pay it back. Fred"--Bones rose and extended his knuckly hand--"you're a jolly old sportsman, and you can put it there!"

"What I was going to say----" began Fred seriously agitated.

"Not a word. We'll have a bottle on this. What will you have--ginger-beer or cider?"

Mr. Fred suppressed a shudder with difficulty.

"Wait, wait, Mr. Tibbetts," he begged; "I think I ought to explain. We did not, of course, knowingly rob your uncle----"

"No, no, naturally," said Bones, with a facial contortion which pa.s.sed for a wink. "Certainly not. We business men never rob anybody. Ali, bring the drinks!"

"We did not consciously rob him," continued Mr. Fred desperately, "but what we did do---- ah, this is my confession!"

"You borrowed a bit and didn't pay it back. Ah, naughty!" said Bones.

"Out with the corkscrew, Ali. What shall it be--a cream soda or non-alcoholic ale?"

Mr. Fred looked long and earnestly at the young man.

"Mr. Tibbetts," he said, and suddenly grasped the hand of Bones, "I hope we are going to be friends. I like you. That's my peculiarity--I like people or I dislike them. Now that I've told you that we bought two ships from your uncle for one hundred and forty thousand pounds when we knew--yes, positively knew--they were worth at least twenty thousand pounds more--now I've told you this, I feel happier."

"Worth twenty thousand pounds more?" said Bones thoughtfully.

Providence was working overtime for him, he thought.

"Of anybody's money," said Fred stoutly. "I don't care where you go, my dear chap. Ask Cole--he's the biggest shipping lawyer in this city--ask my brother, who, I suppose, is the greatest shipping authority in the world, or--what's the use of asking 'em?--ask yourself. If you're not Saul Tibbetts all over again, if you haven't the instinct and the eye and the brain of a shipowner--why, I'm a Dutchman! That's what I am--a Dutchman!"

He picked up his hat and his lips were pressed tight--a gesture and a grimace which stood for grim conviction.

"What are they worth to-day?" asked Bones, after a pause.

"What are they worth to-day?" Mr. Fred frowned heavily at the ceiling.

"Now, what are they worth to-day? I forget how much I've spent on 'em--they're in dock now."

Bones tightened _his_ lips, too.

"They're in dock now?" he said. He scratched his nose. "Dear old Fred Pole," he said, "you're a jolly old soul. By Jove that's not bad!

'Pole' an' 'soul' rhyme--did you notice it?"

Fred had noticed it.

"It's rum," said Bones, shaking his head, "it is rum how things get about. How did you know, old fellow-citizen, that I was going in for shippin'?"

Mr. Fred Pole did not know that Bones was going in for shipping, but he smiled.

"There are few things that happen in the City that I _don't_ know," he admitted modestly.

"The Tibbetts Line," said Bones firmly, "will fly a house-flag of purple and green diagonally--that is, from corner to corner. There will be a yellow anchor in a blue wreath in one corner and a capital T in a red wreath in the other."

"Original, distinctly original," said Fred in wondering admiration.

"Wherever did you get that idea?"

"I get ideas," confessed Bones, blushing, "some times in the night, sometimes in the day. The fleet"--Bones liked the sound of the word and repeated it--"the fleet will consist of the _Augustus_, the _Sanders_--a dear old friend of mine living at Hindhead--the _Patricia_--another dear old friend of mine living at Hindhead, too--in fact, in the same house. To tell you the truth, dear old Fred Pole, she's married to the other ship. And there'll be the _Hamilton_, another precious old soul, a very, very, very, very dear friend of mine who's comin' home shortly----"

"Well, what shall we say, Mr. Tibbetts?" said Fred, who had an early luncheon appointment. "Would you care to buy the two boats at the same price we gave your uncle for them?"

Bones rang his bell.

"I'm a business man, dear old Fred," said he soberly. "There's no time like the present, and I'll fix the matter--_now!_"

He said "now" with a ferociousness which was intended to emphasize his hard and inflexible business character.

Fred came into the private office of Pole & Pole after lunch that day, and there was in his face a great light and a peace which was almost beautiful.

But never beamed the face of Fred so radiantly as the countenance of the waiting Joe. He lay back in his chair, his cigar pointing to the ceiling.

"Well, Fred?"--there was an anthem in his voice.

"Very well, Joe." Fred hung up his unnecessary umbrella.

"I've sold the _Fairies_!"

Joe said it and Fred said it. They said it together. There was the same lilt of triumph in each voice, and both smiles vanished at the identical instant.

"_You've_ sold the _Fairies_!" they said.

They might have been rehearsing this scene for months, so perfect was the chorus.

"Wait a bit, Joe," said Fred; "let's get the hang of this. I understand that you left the matter to me."

"I did; but, Fred, I was so keen on the idea I had that I had to nip in before you. Of course, I didn't go to him as Pole & Pole----"

"To him? What him?" asked Fred, breathing hard.

"To What's-his-name--Bones."

Fred took his blue silk handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed his face.

"Go on, Joe," he said sadly

"I got him just before he went out to lunch. I sent up the United Merchant Shippers' card--it's our company, anyway. Not a word about Pole & Pole."

"Oh, no, of course not!" said Fred.

"And, my boy,"--this was evidently Joe's greatest achievement, for he described the fact with gusto--"not a word about the names of the ships. I just sold him two steamers, so and so tonnage, so and so cla.s.sification----"

"For how much?"

Fred was mildly curious. It was the curiosity which led a certain political prisoner to feel the edge of the axe before it beheaded him.

"A hundred and twenty thousand!" cried Joe joyously. "He's starting a fleet, he says. He's calling it the Tibbetts Line, and bought a couple of ships only this morning."