Again Bones interrupted, and this time by rising and walking solemnly round the table to shake hands with him. "Hamilton, dear old skipper," he pleaded. "I was a very busy man at that time. I admit I made a mistake, and possibly diddled you out of a fortune. But my intention was to write to you and tell you to get into it, and how I ever came to tell you _not_ to get into it--well, my poor old speculator, I haven't the slightest idea!" "The Company----" began Hamilton. "I know, I know," said Bones, shaking his head sadly and fixing his monocle--a proceeding rendered all the more difficult by the fact that his hand never quite overtook his face. "It was an error on my part, dear old thing. I know the Company well. Makes a huge profit! You can see the car all over the town. I think the jolly old Partridge----" "Plover," said Hamilton. "Plover, I mean. They've got another kind of car called the Partridge," explained Bones. "Why, it's one of the best in the market. I thought of buying one myself. And to think that I put you off that Company! Tut, tut! Anyway, dear old man," he said, brightening up, "most of the good fish is in the sea, and it only goes bad when it comes out of the sea. Have you ever noticed that, my dear old naturalist?" "Wait a moment. Will you be quiet?" said the weary Hamilton. "I'm trying to tell you my experiences. I put the money--four thousand pounds--into this infernal Company. "Eh?" "I put the money into the Company, I tell you, against your advice. The Company is more or less a swindle." Bones sat down slowly in his chair and assumed his most solemn and business-like face. "Of course, it keeps within the law, but it's a swindle, none the less. They've got a wretched broken-down factory somewhere in the North, and the only Plover car that's ever been built was made by a Scottish contractor at a cost of about twice the amount which the Company people said that they would charge for it." "What did I say?" said Bones quietly. "Poor old soul, I do not give advice without considering matters, especially to my dearest friend. A company like this is obviously a swindle. You can tell by the appearance of the cars----" "There was only one car ever made," interrupted Hamilton. "I should have said car," said the unperturbed Bones. "The very appearance of it shows you that the thing is a swindle from beginning to end. Oh, why did you go against my advice, dear old Ham? Why did you?" "You humbug!" said the wrathful Hamilton. "You were just this minute apologising for giving me advice." "That," said Bones cheerfully, "was before I'd heard your story. Yes, Ham, you've been swindled." He thought a moment. "Four thousand pounds!" And his jaw dropped.