Bones greeted him like unto a brother--caught him by the hand at the very entrance and, still holding him thus, conducted him to one of his beautiful chairs. "By Jove, dear old Fred," he babbled, "it's good of you, old fellow--really good of you! Business, my jolly old shipowner, waits for no man. Ali, my cheque-book!" "A moment--just a moment, dear Mr. Bones," begged Fred. "You don't mind my calling you by the name which is already famous in the City?" Bones looked dubious. "Personally, I prefer Tibbetts," said Fred. "Personally, dear old Fred, so do I," admitted Bones. "I've come on a curious errand," said Fred in such hollow tones that Bones started. "The fact is, old man, I'm----" He hung his head, and Bones laid a sympathetic hand on his shoulder. "Anybody is liable to get that way, my jolly old roysterer," he said. "Speakin' for myself, drink has no effect upon me--due to my jolly old nerves of iron an' all that sort of thing." "I'm ashamed of myself," said Fred. "Nothing to be ashamed of, my poor old toper," said Bones honestly in error. "Why, I remember once----" "As a business man, Mr. Tibbetts," said Fred bravely, "can you forgive sentiment?" "Sentiment! Why, you silly old josser, I'm all sentiment, dear old thing! Why, I simply cry myself to sleep over dear old Charles What's-his-name's books!" "It's sentiment," said Fred brokenly. "I just can't--I simply can't part with those two ships I sold you." "Hey?" said Bones. "They were your uncle's, but they have an association for me and my brother which it would be--er--profane to mention. Mr. Tibbetts, let us cry off our bargain." Bones sniffed and rubbed his nose. "Business, dear old Fred," he said gently. "Bear up an' play the man, as dear old Francis Drake said when they stopped him playin' cricket. Business, old friend. I'd like to oblige you, but----" He shook his head rapidly Mr. Fred slowly produced his cheque-book and laid it on the desk with the sigh of one who was about to indite his last wishes. "You shall not be the loser," he said, with a catch in his voice, for he was genuinely grieved. "I must pay for my weakness. What is five hundred pounds?" "What is a thousand, if it comes to that, Freddy?" said Bones. "Gracious goodness, I shall be awfully disappointed if you back out--I shall be so vexed, really." "Seven hundred and fifty?" asked Fred, with pleading in his eye. "Make it a thousand, dear old Fred," said Bones; "I can't add up fifties." So "in consideration" (as Fred wrote rapidly and Bones signed more rapidly) "of the sum of one thousand pounds (say L1,000), the contract as between &c., &c.," was cancelled, and Fred became again the practical man of affairs.