Conspiratorially

The bear sat at his usual table in the back.  Perhaps you may be thinking "Bears don't sit at tables," but I tell you, my obstinate young reader, this one did.  He was just finishing his platter of fish and chips, busily wiping the oil off his paws.  A young fox came up to clear away the dishes.

"Evenin', sir. Anythin' else I can get for you?"
The bear looked up at her.  "Yeh're new here, aren't yeh?"
"Yes, sir," she smiled, balancing her tray of dishes.
"Hm," grunted the bear. "Nothin' else for now."
"Right, then. Give a shout if you need anythin'."
As she walked away, the bear pulled a pipe from the pocket of his trousers and began the ritual of filling it.
"Ken, yeh old skipper!"
The bear looked up again as his name was called from the front room.  "Hullo, Ted."
"Thought I might find you here," the red fox dropped his derby hat on the table and pulled up a chair.  "I've got a proposition for yeh, mate."
Ken struck a match and held it to his pipe.  "And what might that be?"
"A pint over 'ere, lassie!"  The fox leaned forward, lowering his voice.  "Conspiracy, man."
"Conspiracy."
"That's right.  Yeh know yeh want to go back to sea."
"What the devil are yeh talkin' about?"
"The Conspiracy.  Callahan's old ship.  She's just up for sale now.  I'm thinkin' yerself, me, a good crew an' all the sunlit seas yeh can imagine.  The world's at our doorstep, mate."
The bear leaned back, eyes on his friend's sharp, eager face.  "Yeh're mad, Ted, yeh know that."
Ted grinned.  "Mebbe I am.  But think about it.  D'yeh really want to spend the rest o' yer life rottin' away here on land, lettin' moss grow on yer back?  What happened to yer sense of adventure?"
There was a long moment of silence while Ken took a draw at his pipe and Ted fiddled with his hat, waiting.  Finally, he took the pipe from his mouth and tapped it absently against the table.
"How much does she cost?"