“Where’s the beer?” demanded the incensed Mr. Wilks; “where’s the beer, you underhanded swab?” “I altered my mind,” said Mr. Smith, “and not liking waste, and seeing by your manner that you’ve ’ad more than enough already tonight, I drunk it. There isn’t another man in Sunwich I could ha’ played that trick on, no, nor a boy neither.” Mr. Wilks was about to speak, but, thinking better of it, threw the three spoons in the kitchen, and resuming his seat by the fire sat with his back half turned to his visitor. “Bright, cheerful young chap, ’e is,” said Mr. Smith; “you’ve knowed ’im ever since he was a baby, haven’t you?” Mr. Wilks made no reply. “The _Conqueror_’s sailing to-morrow morning, too,” continued his tormentor; “his father’s old ship. ’Ow strange it’ll seem to ’im following it out aboard a whaler. Life is full o’ surprises, Mr. Wilks, and wot a big surprise it would be to you if you could ’ear wot he says about you when he comes to ’is senses.” “I’m obeying orders,” growled the other. “Quite right,” said Mr. Smith, approvingly, as he drew a bottle of whisky from his bag and placed it on the table. “Two glasses and there we are. We don’t want any salt and vinegar this time.” Mr. Wilks turned a deaf ear. “But ’ow are you going to manage so as to make one silly and not the other?” he inquired. “It’s a trade secret,” said the other; “but I don’t mind telling you I sent the cap’n something to take afore he comes, and I shall be in your kitchen looking arter things.” “I s’pose you know wot you’re about?” said Mr. Wilks, doubtfully. “I s’pose so,” rejoined the other. “Young Nugent trusts you, and, of course, he’ll take anything from your ’ouse. That’s the beauty of ’aving a character, Mr. Wilks; a good character and a face like a baby with grey whiskers.” Mr. Wilks bent down and, taking up a small brush, carefully tidied up the hearth. “Like as not, if my part in it gets to be known,” pursued Mr. Smith, mournfully, “I’ll ’ave that gal of Kybird’s scratching my eyes out or p’r’aps sticking a hat-pin into me. I had that once; the longest hat-pin that ever was made, I should think.” He shook his head over the perils of his calling, and then, after another glance at the clock, withdrew to the kitchen with his bag, leaving Mr. Wilks waiting in a state of intense nervousness for the arrival of the others. Captain Nugent was the first to put in an appearance, and by way of setting a good example poured a little of the whisky in his glass and sat there waiting. Then Jack Nugent came in, fresh and glowing, and Mr. Wilks, after standing about helplessly for a few moments, obeyed the captain’s significant nod and joined Mr. Smith in the kitchen. “You’d better go for a walk,” said that gentleman, regarding him kindly; “that’s wot the cap’n thought.”