"I believe I have the pleasure of addressing Lieutenant
Sebright," said I, stepping forward.
"Aw, yes," replied the hero; "but, aw! I dawn't knaw
you, do I?" (He spoke for all the world like Lord
Foppington in the old play--a proof of the perennial
nature of man's affectations. But his limping dialect
I scorn to continue to reproduce.)
"It was with the intention of making myself known that
I have taken this step," said I, entirely unabashed
(for impudence begets in me its like--perhaps my only
martial attribute). "We have a common subject of
interest, to me very lively; and I believe I may be in
a position to be of some service to a friend of yours--
to give him, at least, some very welcome information."
The last clause was a sop to my conscience; I could not
pretend, even to myself, either the power or the will
to serve Mr. Carthew; but I felt sure he would like to
hear the FLYING SCUD was burned.
"I don't know--I--I don't understand you," stammered my
victim. "I don't have any friends in Honolulu, don't
you know?"
The friend to whom I refer is English," I replied.
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