"Why do we want to visit this old ruffian?" he asked.
"You wait till you hear him," replied Tommy. "That man
knows everything."
On descending from the hansom at the Currency Lass,
Hadden was struck with the appearance of the cabman, a
gross, salt-looking man, red-faced, blue-eyed, short-
handed and short-winded, perhaps nearing forty.
"Surely I know you?" said he. "Have you driven me
before?"
"Many's the time, Mr. Hadden," returned the driver.
"The last time you was back from the islands it was me
that drove you to the races, sir."
"All right: jump down and have a drink then," said Tom,
and he turned and led the way into the garden.
Captain Bostock met the party: he was a slow, sour old
man, with fishy eyes; greeted Tommy off-hand, and (as
was afterwards remembered) exchanged winks with the
driver.
"A bottle of beer for the cabman there at that table,"
said Tom. "Whatever you please from shandygaff to
champagne at this one here; and you sit down with us.
Let me make you acquainted with my friend Mr. Carthew.
I've come on business, Billy; I want to consult you as
a friend; I'm going into the island trade upon my own
account.
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