I've been in the firm's service a good many years now," he began.

"I hope you'll be in as many more," said Vyner, regarding him almost
affectionately.

"Hartley has been with you a long time, too," continued Trimblett,
slowly. "We became chums the first time we met, and we've been friends
ever since. Not just fair-weather friends, but close and hearty; else I
wouldn't venture to speak to you as I'm going to speak."

Mr. Vyner looked up at him suddenly, his face hard and forbidding. Then,
as he saw the embarrassment in the kindly old face before him, his anger
vanished and he bent his head to hide a smile.

"Fire away," he said, cordially.

"I'm an old man," began the captain, solemnly.

"Nonsense," interrupted Robert, breezily. "Old man indeed! A man is
as old as he feels, and I saw you the other night, outside the Golden
Fleece, with Captain Walsh--"

"I couldn't get away from him," said the captain, hastily.

"So far as I could see you were not trying," continued the remorseless
Robert. "You were instructing him in the more difficult and subtle
movements of a hornpipe, and I must say I thought your elasticity was
wonderful--wonderful."

"It was just the result of an argument I had with him," said the
captain, looking very confused, "and I ought to have known better. But,
as I was saying, I am an old man, and--"

"But you look so young," protested Mr. Vyner.

"Old man," repeated the captain, ignoring the remark. "Old age has its
privileges, and one of them is to give a word in season before it is too
late."

"'A stitch in time saves nine," quoted Robert, with an encouraging nod.

"And I was speaking to Hartley the other day," continued the captain.
"He hasn't been looking very well of late, and, as far as I can make
out, he is a little bit worried over the matter I want to speak to you
about."

Robert Vyner's face hardened again for a moment. He leaned back in his
chair and, playing with his watch-chain, regarded the other intently.
Then he smiled maliciously.

"He told me," he said, nodding.

"Told you?" repeated the captain, in astonishment.

Mr. Vyner nodded again, and bending down pretended to glance at some
papers on his table.

"Green-fly," he said, gravely. "He told me that he syringes early and
late. He will clear a tree, as he thinks, and while he has gone to mix
another bucket of the stuff there are several generations born. Bassett
informs me that a green-fly is a grandfather before i