Africa -- Fiction; Businessmen -- Fiction; Crime -- England -- Fiction; Criminals -- England -- Fiction
At this second mandate a great tangled mass of black hair was slowly
protruded round the angle of the door. Then a copper-coloured forehead
appeared, with a couple of very shaggy eyebrows and eventually a pair of
eyes, which protruded from their sockets and looked yellow and
unhealthy. These took a long look, first at the senior partner and then
at his surroundings, after which, as if reassured by the inspection, the
remainder of the face appeared--a flat nose, a large mouth with a lower
lip which hung down and exposed a line of tobacco-stained teeth, and
finally a thick black beard which bristled straight out from the chin,
and bore abundant traces of an egg having formed part of its owner's
morning meal. The head having appeared, the body soon followed it,
though all in the same anaconda-like style of progression, until the
individual stood revealed. He was a stoutly-built sea-faring man,
dressed in a pea jacket and blue trousers and holding his tarpaulin hat
in his hand. With a rough scrape and a most unpleasant leer he advanced
towards the merchant, a tattoed and hairy hand outstretched in sign of
greeting.
"Why, captain," said the head of the firm, rising and grasping the
other's hand with effusion, "I am glad to see you back safe and well."
"Glad to see ye, sir--glad to see ye."
His voice was thick and husky, and there was an indecision about his
gait as though he had been drinking heavily. "I came in sort o'
cautious," he continued, "'cause I didn't know who might be about.
When you and me speaks together we likes to speak alone, you bet."
The merchant raised his bushy eyebrows a little, as though he did not
relish the idea of mutual confidences suggested by his companion's
remark. "Hadn't you better take a seat?" he said.
The other took a cane-bottomed chair and carried it into the extreme
corner of the office. Then having looked steadily at the wall behind
him, and rapped it with his knuckles, he sat down, still throwing an
occasional apprehensive glance over his shoulder. "I've got a touch of
the jumps," he remarked apologetically to his employer. "I likes to
_know_ as there ain't no one behind me."
"You should give up this shocking habit of drinking," Mr. Girdlestone
said seriously. "It is a waste of the best gifts with which Providence
has endowed us. You are the worse for it both in this world and in the
next."
Captain Hamilton Miggs did not seem to be at all impressed by this very
sensible piece of advice. On the contrary, he chuckled boisterously to
himself, and, slapping his thigh, expressed his opinion that his
employer was a "rum 'un"--a conviction which he repeated to himself
several times with various symptoms of admiration.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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