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knowledge； is brought to a dead halt。”
“No； no； my dear friend。 No； no； Mr George。 No； no； no； sir；”
remonstrates Grandfather Smallweed； cunningly rubbing his
spare legs。 “Not quite a dead halt； I think。 He has good friends；
and he is good for his pay； and he is good for the selling price of
his commission； and he is good for his chance in a lawsuit； and he
is good for his chance in a wife； and—oh； do you know； Mr George；
I think my friend would consider the young gentleman good for
something yet？” says Grandfather Smallweed； turning up his
velvet cap； and scratching his ear like a monkey。
Mr George； who has put aside his pipe and sits with an arm on
his chair…back； beats a tattoo on the ground with his right foot； as
if he were not particularly pleased with the turn the conversation
had taken。
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“But to pass from one subject to another；” resumes Mr
Smallweed。 “To promote the conversation； as a joker might say。
To pass； Mr George； from the ensign to the captain。”
“What are you up to； now？” asked Mr George； pausing with a
frown in stroking the recollection of his moustache。 “What
captain？”
“Our captain。 The captain we know of。 Captain Hawdon。”
“O！ that’s it； is it？” says Mr George； with a low whistle； as he
sees both grandfather and grand…daughter looking hard at him；
you are there！ Well？ what about it？ Come； I won’t be smothered
any more。 Speak！”
“My dear friend；” returns the old man； “I was applied—Judy；
shake me up a little！—I was applied to； yesterday； about the
captain； and my opinion still is； that the captain is not dead。”
“Bosh！” observes Mr George。
“What was your remark； my dear friend？” inquires the old man
with his hand to his ear。
“Bosh！”
“Ho！” says Grandfather Smallweed。 “Mr George； of my opinion
you can judge for yourself according to questions asked of me； and
the reasons given for asking ’em。 Now； what do you think the
lawyer making the inquiries wants？”
“A job；” says Mr George。
“Nothing of the kind！”
“Can’t be a lawyer； then；” says Mr George； folding his arms
with an air of confirmed resolution。
“My dear friend； he is a lawyer and a famous one。 He wants to
see some fragment in Captain Hawdon’s writing。 He don’t want to
keep it。 He only wants to see it； and compare it with a writing in
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his possession。”
“Well？”
“Well； Mr George。 Happening to remember the advertisement
concerning Captain Hawdon； and any information that could be
given respecting him； he looked it up and came to me—just as you
did； my dear friend。 Will you shake hands？ So glad you came； that
day。 I should have missed forming such a friendship； if you hadn’t
come！”
“Well； Mr Smallweed？” says Mr George again； after going
through the ceremony with some stiffness。
“I had no such thing。 I have nothing but his signature。 Plague
pestilence and famine； battle murder and sudden death upon
him；” says the old man； making a curse out of one of his few
remembrances of a prayer； and squeezing up his velvet cap
between his angry hands； “I have half a million of his signatures； I
think！ But you；” breathlessly recovering his mildness of speech； as
Judy readjusts the cap on his skittle…ball of a head； “You； my dear
Mr George； are likely to have some letter or paper that would suit
the purpose。 Anything would suit the purpose； written in the
hand。”
“Some writing in that hand；” says the trooper； pondering； “may
be； I have。”
“My dearest friend！”
“May be； I have not。”
“Ho！” says Grandfather Smallweed； crestfallen。
“But if I had bushels of it； I would not show as much as would
make a cartridge； without knowing why。”
“Sir； I have told you why。 My dear Mr George； I have told you
why。”
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“Not enough；” says the trooper； shaking his head。 “I must know
more； and approve it。”
“Then； will you come to the lawyer？ My dear friend； will you
come and see the gentleman？” urges Grandfather Smallweed；
pulling out a lean old silver watch； with hands like the legs of a
skeleton。 “I told him it was probable I might call upon him；
between ten and eleven this forenoon； and it’s now half after ten。
“Will you come and see the gentleman； Mr George？”
“Hum！” says he； gravely。 “I don’t mind that。 Though why this
should concern you so much； I don’t know。”
“Everything concerns me； that has a chance in it of bringing
anything to light about him。 Didn’t he take us all in？ Didn’t he owe
us immense sums； all round？ Concern me？ Who can anything
about him concern； more than me？ Not； my dear friend；” says
Grandfather Smallweed； lowering his tone； “that I want you to
betray anything。 Far from it。 Are you ready to come； my dear
friend？”
“Ay！ I’ll come in a moment。 I promise nothing； you know。”
“No； my dear Mr George； no。”
“And you mean to say you’re going to give me a lift to this place；
wherever it is； without charging for it？” Mr George inquires；
getting his hat； and thick wash…leather gloves。
This pleasantry so tickles Mr Smallweed； that he laughs long
and low； before the fire。 But even while he laughs； he glances over
his paralytic shoulder at Mr George； and eagerly watches him as
he unlocks the padlock of a homely cupboard at the distant end of
the gallery； looks here and there upon the higher shelves； and
ultimately takes something out with a rustling of paper； folds it；
and puts it in his breast。 Then Judy pokes Mr Smallweed once；
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and Mr Smallweed pokes Judy once。
“I am ready；” says the trooper； coming back。 “Phil； you can
carry this old gentleman to his coach； and make nothing of him。”
“O dear me！ O Lord！ Stop a moment！” says Mr Smallweed。
“He’s so very prompt！ Are you sure you can do it carefully； my
worthy man？”
Phil makes no reply； but； seizing the chair and its load； sidles
away； tightly hugged by the now speechless Mr Smallweed； and
bolts along the passage as if he had an acceptable commission to
carry the old gentleman to the nearest volcano。 His shorter trust；
however； terminating at the cab； he deposits him there； and the
fair Judy takes her pla