“Here’s the gentleman,” said Bone, when he sighted Harman. “Up to time and with the goods to deliver, I dare say. Harman, this is the Captain; where’s the hands?”
“Well,” said Harman, leaning his elbows on the bar, “I believe I’ve got them. One of them’s meself.”
“D’you mean to say you’re up to sign on with me?” asked Ginnell.
“It won’t do,” said he. “I know you be name, Mr. Harman; you’re in with Clancy and that crowd, and my boat’s too rough for the likes of you.”
“You needn’t fear about that,” said Harman. “I’ve done with Clancy. What I’ve got to do is get out of Frisco and get out quick. The cops are after me; there you have it. I’ve got to get out of here before night--do you take me--and I’m so pressed to get out sudden I’ll take your word for ten dollars a month without any signin’.”
“I’ll take a drink of whisky,” replied Harman.
“And how,” said Ginnell, “what about the other chap?”
Harman wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
“I’ve made an arrangement with a chap to meet me here,” said he. “He’ll be in in a minute.”
“Like? Why, I’ll tell you what he’s like; he wouldn’t sign on in your tub for a hundred dollars a month.”
“Faith and you’re a nice sort of chap,” said Ginnell. “Is it playin’ the fool with me you are?”
By way of reply Harman took the box of quinine tabloids from his pocket, opened it, showed the contents, and winked.
“One of those in his drink will lay him out for an hour,” said Harman, “without hurtin’ him. Put one in your weskit pocket, Bone--and how about your boat?”
“She’s down below at the stairs,” replied the landlord, putting the tabloid in his waistcoat pocket. “I’ll go and call Jim to get her ready--a moment, gentlemen.” He vanished into a back room, and they heard him shouting orders to Jim; then he returned, and as he passed behind the bar who should enter but Captain Mike!
The Captain walked to the bar, called for a drink, and without as much as a glance at the others took it to a seat in a far corner, where he lit a pipe. Several wharf habitués loafed in, and soon the place became hazy with tobacco smoke and horrible with the smell of rank cigars.
“Well,” said Ginnell, “where’s your man? I’m thinkin’ he’s given you the slip, and be the powers, Mr. Harman, if he has, it’ll be the worst for you.”