“Yes. He lost a steamer in the Bay of Biscay, and the evidence went to show that he was drunk at the time. His certificate was taken away or suspended; I forget the details. A rather shabby lot is Handy. As I was about to tell you, O’Shea, the pair of them, Captain Handy and this spruce young man, Strothers, came in to ask our cash selling-price for the _Tyneshire Glen_, which is laid up in the East India Docks. We have no interest in the vessel beyond representing the owners, who want to get rid of her.” “And did you give the precious pair of two-spots a price on her?” blandly inquired O’Shea. “I offered them the _Tyneshire Glen_ for twenty-four thousand pounds as she stands,” replied Huntley. “It’s all she’s worth. She is a big steamer, almost five thousand tons, but she will need a lot of repairs. Captain Handy claimed that he had found a possible buyer in whose interests young Strothers was acting. Of course we were willing to pay Handy a decent commission if the deal went through.” O’Shea looked sidewise at Johnny Kent, who, on occasions, was bright enough to see through a hole in a grindstone. They kept their thoughts to themselves, and O’Shea commented non-committally: “Of course Captain Handy is entitled to a commission if he finds ye a customer for the steamer, George. ’Tis an honest chance for the poor divil to pick up a few dollars. And so the young man, Strothers, came back this morning? Do I show too much curiosity in asking what he had to say?” “You are welcome to all I know. He told me that the gentleman whose interests he represented had inspected the _Tyneshire Glen_ yesterday and thought she would answer his purpose. The price was satisfactory and he would like a three-days’ option, which I was very willing to give him.” “And the price was still twenty-four thousand pounds?” violently put in Johnny Kent with a snort as if his steam were rising. “Precisely twenty-four thousand pounds, or one hundred and twenty thousand dollars of your Yankee currency or thereabouts. Are you thinking of buying her yourself, Johnny?” said Huntley with a broad smile. “Not on your life,” was the fervent response. “I’d be afraid to sneeze on board of her in the docks for fear her rivets would fly off.” “Oh, she isn’t as bad as all that. A well-built steamer is the _Tyneshire Glen_, with lots of service in her.” “What she needs is a new hull, boilers, and engines,” grunted Johnny. “Say, George Huntley, did this young man, Strothers, mention anything about buyin’ the steamer for a king that is roamin’ around London without any tag to him?” “A king!” ejaculated the ship-broker, blinking like an astonished owl. “Are you chaps raggin’ me?” “Maybe the joke is on us, George, or else Cap’n Mike and me have been seein’ visions and hearin’ things that ain’t so.” Huntley cast an appealing glance at O’Shea, who said: