It was in the consulate (of all untoward
places) that he suddenly heard a big voice inquiring
for Captain Trent. He turned with the customary
sinking at his heart.
"YOU ain't Captain Trent!" said the stranger,
falling back. "Why, what's all this? They tell me
you're passing off as Captain Trent--Captain Jacob
Trent--a man I knew since I was that high."
"O, you're thinking of my uncle as had the bank in
Cardiff," replied Wicks, with desperate APLOMB.
"I declare I never knew he had a nevvy!" said the
stranger.
"Well, you see he has!" says Wicks.
"And how is the old man?" asked the other.
"Fit as a fiddle," answered Wicks, and was opportunely
summoned by the clerk.
This alert was the only one until the morning of the
sale, when he was once more alarmed by his interview
with Jim; and it was with some anxiety that he attended
the sale, knowing only that Carthew was to be
represented, but neither who was to represent him nor
what were the instructions given. I suppose Captain
Wicks is a good life. In spite of his personal
appearance and his own known uneasiness, I suppose he
is secure from apoplexy, or it must have struck him
there and then, as he looked on at the stages of that
insane sale and saw the old brig and her not very
valuable cargo knocked down at last to a total stranger
for ten thousand pounds.
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