At Turlington's appearance, the old man rose on the
bed and welcomed him with greedy eyes and outstretched hand.
"Money, master!" he called out hoarsely. "A crown piece in advance, for
the sake of old times!"
Turlington turned to the women without answering, purse in hand.
"His clothes are at the pawnbroker's, of course. How much?"
"Thirty shillings."
"Bring them here, and be quick about it. You will find it worth your
while when you come back."
The women took the pawnbroker's tickets from the pockets of the man's
trousers and hurried out.
Turlington closed the door, and seated himself by the bedside. He laid
his hand familiarly on the giant's mighty shoulder, looked him full in
the face, and said, in a whisper,
"Thomas Wildfang!"
The man started, and drew his huge hairy hand across his eyes, as if in
doubt whether he was waking or sleeping. "It's better than ten years,
master, since you called me by my name. If I am Thomas Wildfang, what
are you?"
"Your captain, once more."
Thomas Wildfang sat up on the side of the bed, and spoke his next words
cautiously in Turlington's ear.
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