for a moment,
Chester looked at me with infinite contempt. "So you wouldn't advise
him?" he uttered slowly. "Certainly not," I answered, as indignant as
though he had requested me to help murder somebody; "moreover, I am sure
he wouldn't. He is badly cut up, but he isn't mad as far as I know." "He
is no earthly good for anything," Chester mused aloud. "He would just
have done for me. If you only could see a thing as it is, you would
see it's the very thing for him. And besides . . . Why! it's the most
splendid, sure chance . . ." He got angry suddenly. "I must have a man.
There! . . ." He stamped his foot and smiled unpleasantly. "Anyhow, I
could guarantee the island wouldn't sink under him--and I believe he
is a bit particular on that point." "Good morning," I said curtly. He
looked at me as though I had been an incomprehensible fool. . . . "Must
be moving, Captain Robinson," he yelled suddenly into the old man's ear.
"These Parsee Johnnies are waiting for us to clinch the bargain." He
took his partner under the arm with a firm grip, swung him round, and,
unexpectedly, leered at me over his shoulder. "I was trying to do him
a kindness," he asserted, with an air and tone that made my blood boil.
"Thank you for nothing--in his name," I rejoined. "Oh! you are devilish
smart," he sneered; "but you are like the rest of them. Too much in the
clouds. See what you will do with him." "I don't know that I want to
do anything with him." "Don't you?" he spluttered; his grey moustache
bristled with anger, and by his side the notorious Robinson, propped
on the umbrella, stood with his back to me, as patient and still as a
worn-out cab-horse. "I haven't found a guano island," I said. "It's
my belief you wouldn't know one if you were led right up to it by the
hand," he riposted quickly; "and in this world you've got to see a thing
first, before you can make use of it. Got to see it through and through
at that, neither more nor less." "And get others to see it, too," I
insinuated, with a glance at the bowed back by his side. Chester snorted
at me. "His eyes are right enough--don't you worry. He ain't a puppy."
"Oh, dear, no!" I said. "Come along, Captain Robinson," he shouted, with
a sort of bullying deference under the rim of the old man's hat; the
Holy Terror gave a submissive little jump. The ghost of a steamer was
waiting for them, Fortune on that fair isle! They made a curious pair
of Argonauts. Chester strode on leisurely, well set