We spun round.
"What the devil are you doing here, Voules," I said.
"I beg your pardon, sir. I have heard all."
I looked at George. George looked at me.
"Voules is all right," I said. "Decent Voules! Voules wouldn't give us
away, would you, Voules?"
"Yes, sir."
"You would?"
"Yes, sir."
"But, Voules, old man," I said, "be sensible. What would you gain by
it?"
"Financially, sir, nothing."
"Whereas, by keeping quiet"--I tapped him on the chest--"by holding
your tongue, Voules, by saying nothing about it to anybody, Voules, old
fellow, you might gain a considerable sum."
"Am I to understand, sir, that, because you are rich and I am poor, you
think that you can buy my self-respect?"
"Oh, come!" I said.
"How much?" said Voules.
So we switched to terms. You wouldn't believe the way the man haggled.
You'd have thought a decent, faithful servant would have been delighted
to oblige one in a little matter like that for a fiver. But not Voules.
By no means. It was a hundred down, and the promise of another hundred
when we had got safely away, before he was satisfied. But we fixed it
up at last, and poor old George got down to his state-room and changed
his clothes.
He'd hardly gone when the breakfast-party came on deck.
"Did you meet him?" I asked.
"Meet whom?" said old Marshall.
"George's twin-brother Alfred.
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