The beasts look sober," he added, with an air of great disgust, "and need putting to work to keep them so." This being agreed upon, Nares watched his subordinate depart and drew a visible breath.
"And now we're alone and can talk," said he.

"What's this thing about?
It's been advertised like Barnum's museum; that poster of yours has set the Front talking; that's an objection in itself, for I'm laying a little dark just now; and anyway, before I take the ship, I require to know what I'm going after." Thereupon Pinkerton gave him the whole tale, beginning with a businesslike precision, and working himself up, as he went on, to the boiling-point of narrative enthusiasm.

Nares sat and smoked, hat still on head, and acknowledged each fresh feature of the story with a frowning nod.

But his pale blue eyes betrayed him, and lighted visibly.
"Now you see for yourself," Pinkerton concluded: "there's every last chance that Trent has skipped to Honolulu, and it won't take much of that fifty thousand dollars to charter a smart schooner down to Midway.
Here's where I want a man!" cried Jim, with contagious energy.

"That wreck's mine; I've paid for it, money down; and if it's got to be fought for, I want to see it fought for lively.