"Sir," said the captain, instantly shaking hands with him, pen and all,
"I'm glad to see you, sir. How do you do, sir? I told you you'd think
better of me by-and-by, and I congratulate you on going to do it."

Here the captain's eye fell on Tom Pettifer Ho, engaged in preparing some
cookery at the fire.

"That critter," said the captain, smiting his leg, "is a born steward,
and never ought to have been in any other way of life. Stop where you
are, Tom, and make yourself useful. Now, Tregarthen, I'm going to try a
chair."

Accordingly the captain drew one close to him, and went on:--

"This loving member of the Raybrock family you know, sir. This slow
member of the same family you don't know, sir. Wa'al, these two are
brothers,--fact! Hugh's come to life again, and here he stands. Now see
here, my friend! You don't want to be told that he was cast away, but
you do want to be told (for there's a purpose in it) that he was cast
away with another man. That man by name was Lawrence Clissold."

At the mention of this name Tregarthen started and changed colour.
"What's the matter?" said the captain.

"He was a fellow-clerk of mine thirty--five-and-thirty--years ago."

"True," said the captain, immediately catching at the clew: "Dringworth
Brothers, America Square, London City."