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It’s getting dark.” “Well,” decided Phormio, “we can easily tell. He has left his stick below by the door. Steal across, Polus, and fetch it. It must be carved with the owner’s name.” The juror readily obeyed; but to read the few characters on the crooked handle was beyond the learning of any save Clearchus, whose art demanded the mystery of writing.
A low counter was covered with the owner’s wares,—tall amphoræ for wine, flat beakers, water-pots, and basins. Behind, two apprentices whirled the wheel, another glazed on the black varnish and painted the jars with little red loves and dancing girls.
"I don’t believe I ever can do all that," she said when Janice paused; "I never was one to rush around pell-mell, but I’ve always been a great believer in lettin’ other folks enjoy themselves an’ I shall try not to interfere." Janice hung the tiny memoranda up beside its owner’s watch and stood at attention for further orders.
“A little too long to wait,” he said to himself, as he turned up the collar of his purloined fur coat to keep out the cold, and picked another cigar from its rightful owner’s case. By way of further defying the temperature and cementing his acquaintance with the station-master, he offered to regale that gratified official with such refreshments as the station bar provided.
How little would the passer-by who looked in those days on its walls, decayed and moss-grown even then, and mouldering—how little would he have imagined that its fame would go down to the latest ages, imperishable through its owner’s infamy. The house of Læca!
As they had had notice of the owner’s intention to come down, the officers were all in their new uniforms, and after Captain Pinder had shown his guests round the ship, they sat down together to dinner in the cabin. “You have plenty of freeboard, I see,” Mr. Embleton said, as, after returning on deck, he looked over the side. “Yes, I never will load down my ships,” Mr.
“I didn’t say that,” Jack replied, evasively. “But the construction of a submarine torpedo boat is a secret. It is a general rule with our owners that strangers shan’t be allowed on board, unless they’re very especially vouched for. Now, I hate to appear disobliging; yet, if you’ve ever been employed by anyone else, you will appreciate the need of obeying an owner’s orders.”
He did not see it himself, but it had been told him two years before by his uncle, who was mate of a ship that traded to the North Sea. “The ship,” said he, “was the John and Thomas, named after the owner’s two brothers, and bound to Stockholm for flax and iron.
"I’m interested, too." The cantina owner’s drawl was as slow as ever, but it held a note of a whiplash. "Them soldiers...." Fowler appeared, the bar-side shotgun across his arm—"they jumped th’ boys. I saw it, myself." "Yeah, told yuh these town buzzards’re all th’ same. Stick together an’ have it in for th’ army!"
The exact particulars, however, were a little hard to collect, for while Moggridge supplied many minute and picturesque details, illustrating his own activity and presence of mind and the imminent peril of the Lady Alicia, Mr Beveridge recounted an equally vivid story of a runaway horse recovered by himself to its fair owner’s unbounded gratitude.
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