Mr. George Burton, naval pensioner, sat at the door of his lodgingsgazing in placid content at the sea. It was early summer, and the airwas heavy with the scent of flowers; Mr. Burton's pipe was cold andempty, and his pouch upstairs. He shook his head gently as he realisedthis, and, yielding to the drowsy quiet of his surroundings, laid asidethe useless pipe and fell into a doze.
He was awakened half an hour later by the sound of footsteps. A tall,strongly built man was approaching from the direction of the town, andMr. Burton, as he gazed at him sleepily, began to wonder where he hadseen him before. Even when the stranger stopped and stood smiling downat him his memory proved unequal to the occasion, and he sat staring atthe handsome, shaven face, with its little fringe of grey whisker,waiting for enlightenment.
"George, my buck," said the stranger, giving him a hearty slap on theshoulder, "how goes it?"
"D-- Bless my eyes, I mean," said Mr. Burton, correcting himself, "if itain't Joe Stiles. I didn't know you without your beard."
"That's me," said the other. "It's quite by accident I heard where youwere living, George; I offered to go and sling my hammock with oldDingle for a week or two, and he told me. Nice quiet little place,Seacombe. Ah, you were lucky to get your pension, George."
"I deserved it," said Mr. Burton, sharply, as he fancied he detectedsomething ambiguous in his friend's remark.
"Of course you did," said Mr. Stiles; "so did I, but I didn't get it.Well, it's a poor heart that never rejoices. What about that drink youwere speaking of, George?"
"I hardly ever touch anything now," replied his friend.
"I was thinking about myself," said Mr. Stiles. "I can't bear the stuff,but the doctor says I must have it. You know what doctors are, George!"
Mr. Burton did not deign to reply, but led the way indoors.
"Very comfortable quarters, George," remarked Mr. Stiles, gazing roundthe room approvingly; "ship-shape and tidy. I'm glad I met old Dingle.Why, I might never ha' seen you again; and us such pals, too."
His host grunted, and from the back of a small cupboard, produced abottle of whisky and a glass, and set them on the table. After amomentary hesitation he found another glass.
"Our noble selves," said Mr. Stiles, with a tinge of reproach in histones, "and may we never forget old friendships."
Mr. Burton drank the toast. "I hardly know what it's like now, Joe," hesaid, slowly. "You wouldn't believe how soon you can lose the taste forit."
Mr. Stiles said he would take his word for it. "You've got some nicelittle public-houses about here, too," he remarked. "There's one Ipassed called the Cock and Flowerpot; nice cosy little place it would beto spend the evening in."
"I never go there," said Mr. Burton, hastily. "I--a friend o' mine heredoesn't approve o' public-'ouses."
"What's the matter with him?" inquired his friend, anxiously.
"It's--it's a 'er," said Mr. Burton, in some confusion.
Mr. Stiles threw himself back in his chair and eyed him with amazement.Then, recovering his presence of mind, he reached out his hand for thebottle.
"We'll drink her health," he said, in a deep voice. "What's her name?"
"Mrs. Dutton," was the reply.
Mr. Stiles, with one hand on his heart, toasted her feelingly; then,filling up again, he drank to the "happy couple."
"She's very strict about drink," said Mr. Burton, eyeing theseproceedings with some severity.
"Any--dibs?" inquired Mr. Stiles, slapping a pocket which failed to ringin response.
"She's comfortable," replied the other, awkwardly. "Got a littlestationer's shop in the town; steady, old-fashioned business. She'schapel, and very strict."
"Just what you want," remarked Mr. Stiles, placing his glass on thetable. "What d'ye say to a stroll?"
Mr. Burton assented, and, having replaced the black bottle in thecupboard, led the way along the cliffs toward the town some half-miledistant, Mr. Stiles beguiling the way by narrating his adventures sincethey had last met. A certain swagger and richness of deportment wereexplained by his statement that he had been on the stage.
"Only walking on," he said, with a shake of his head. "The only speakingpart I ever had was a cough. You ought to ha' heard that cough, George!"
Mr. Burton politely voiced his regrets and watched him anxiously. Mr.Stiles, shaking his head over a somewhat unsuccessful career, was makinga bee-line for the Cock and Flowerpot.
"Just for a small soda," he explained, and, once inside, changed hismind and had whisky instead. Mr. Burton, sacrificing principle tofriendship, had one with him. The bar more than fulfilled Mr. Stiles'sideas as to its cosiness, and within the space of ten minutes he was onexcellent terms with the regular clients. Into the little, old-worldbar, with its loud-ticking clock, its Windsor-chairs, and its crackedjug full of roses, he brought a breath of the bustle of the great cityand tales of the great cities beyond the seas. Refreshment was forcedupon him, and Mr. Burton, pleased at his friend's success, shared mildlyin his reception. It was nine o'clock before they departed, and thenthey only left to please the landlord.
"Nice lot o' chaps," said Mr. Stiles, as he stumbled out into the sweet,cool air. "Catch hold--o' my--arm, George. Brace me--up a bit."
Mr. Burton complied, and his friend, reassured as to his footing, burstinto song. In a stentorian voice he sang the latest song from comicopera, and then with an adjuration to Mr. Burton to see what he wasabout, and not to let him trip, he began, in a lumbering fashion, todance.
Mr. Burton, still propping him up, trod a measure with fewer steps, andcast uneasy glances up the lonely road. On their left the sea brokequietly on the beach below; on their right were one or two scatteredcottages, at the doors of which an occasional figure appeared to gaze inmute astonishment at the proceedings.
"Dance, George," said Mr. Stiles, who found his friend rather anencumbrance.
"Hs'h! Stop!" cried the frantic Mr. Burton, as he caught sight of awoman's figure bidding farewell in a lighted doorway.
Mr. Stiles replied with a stentorian roar, and Mr. Burton, clingingdespairingly to his jigging friend lest a worse thing should happen,cast an imploring glance at Mrs. Dutton as they danced by. The eveningwas still light enough for him to see her face, and he piloted thecorybantic Mr. Stiles the rest of the way home in a mood which accordedbut ill with his steps.
His manner at breakfast next morning was so offensive that Mr. Stiles,who had risen fresh as a daisy and been out to inhale the air on thecliffs, was somewhat offended.
"You go down and see her," he said, anxiously. "Don't lose a moment; andexplain to her that it was the sea-air acting on an old sunstroke."
"She ain't a fool," said Mr. Burton, gloomily.
He finished his breakfast in silence, and, leaving the repentant Mr.Stiles sitting in the doorway with a pipe, went down to the widow's tomake the best explanation he could think of on the way. Mrs. Dutton'sfresh-coloured face changed as he entered the shop, and her still goodeyes regarded him with scornful interrogation.
"I--saw you last night," began Mr. Burton, timidly.
"I saw you, too," said Mrs. Dutton. "I couldn't believe my eyesight atfirst."
"It was an old shipmate of mine," said Mr. Burton. "He hadn't seen mefor years, and I suppose the sight of me upset 'im."
"I dare say," replied the widow; "that and the Cock and Flowerpot, too.I heard about it."
"He would go," said the unfortunate.
"You needn't have gone," was the reply.
"I 'ad to," said Mr. Burton, with a gulp; "he--he's an old officer o'mine, and it wouldn't ha' been discipline for me to refuse."
"Officer?" repeated Mrs. Dutton.
"My old admiral," said Mr. Burton, with a gulp that nearly choked him."You've heard me speak of Admiral Peters?"
"Admiral?" gasped the astonished widow.
"What, a-carrying on like that?"
"He's a reg'lar old sea-dog," said Mr. Burton. "He's staying with me,but of course 'e don't want it known who he is. I couldn't
refuse to'ave a drink with 'im. I was under orders, so to speak."
"No, I suppose not," said Mrs. Dutton, softening. "Fancy him stayingwith you!"
"He just run down for the night, but I expect he'll be going 'ome in anhour or two," said Mr. Burton, who saw an excellent reason now forhastening his guest's departure.
Mrs. Dutton's face fell. "Dear me," she murmured, "I should have likedto have seen him; you have told me so much about him. If he doesn't goquite so soon, and you would like to bring him here when you cometo-night, I'm sure I should be very pleased."
"I'll mention it to 'im," said Mr. Burton, marvelling at the change inher manner.
"Didn't you say once that he was uncle to Lord Buckfast?" inquired Mrs.Dutton, casually.
"Yes," said Mr. Burton, with unnecessary doggedness; "I did."
"The idea of an admiral staying with you!" said Mrs. Dutton.
"Reg'lar old sea-dog," said Mr. Burton again; "and, besides, he don'twant it known. It's a secret between us three, Mrs. Dutton."
"To be sure," said the widow. "You can tell the admiral that I shall notmention it to a soul," she added, mincingly.
Mr. Burton thanked her and withdrew, lest Mr. Stiles should follow himup before apprised of his sudden promotion. He found that gentleman,however, still sitting at the front door, smoking serenely.
"I'll stay with you for a week or two," said Mr. Stiles, briskly, assoon as the other had told his story. "It'll do you a world o' good tobe seen on friendly terms with an admiral, and I'll put in a good wordfor you."
Mr. Burton shook his head. "No, she might find out," he said, slowly. "Ithink that the best thing is for you to go home after dinner, Joe, andjust give 'er a look in on the way, p'r'aps. You could say a lot o'things about me in 'arf an hour."
"No, George," said Mr. Stiles, beaming on him kindly; "when I put myhand to the plough I don't draw back. It's a good speaking part, too, anadmiral's. I wonder whether I might use old Peters's language."
"Certainly not," said Mr. Burton, in alarm.
"You don't know how particular she is."
Mr. Stiles sighed, and said that he would do the best he could withoutit. He spent most of the day on the beach smoking, and when evening cameshaved himself with extreme care and brushed his serge suit with greatperseverance in preparation for his visit.
Mr. Burton performed the ceremony of introduction with some awkwardness;Mr. Stiles was affecting a stateliness of manner which was not withoutdistinction; and Mrs. Dutton, in a black silk dress and the cameo broochwhich had belonged to her mother, was no less important. Mr. Burton hadan odd feeling of inferiority.
"It's a very small place to ask you to, Admiral Peters," said the widow,offering him a chair.
"It's comfortable, ma'am," said Mr. Stiles, looking round approvingly."Ah, you should see some of the palaces I've been in abroad; all showand no comfort. Not a decent chair in the place. And, as for theantimacassars----"
"Are you making a long stay, Admiral Peters?" inquired the delightedwidow.
"It depends," was the reply. "My intention was just to pay a flyingvisit to my honest old friend Burton here--best man in my squadron--buthe is so hospitable, he's been pressing me to stay for a few weeks."
"But the admiral says he must get back to-morrow morning," interposedMr. Burton, firmly.
"Unless I have a letter at breakfast-time, Burton," said Mr. Stiles,serenely.
Mr. Burton favoured him with a mutinous scowl.
"Oh, I do hope you will," said Mrs. Dutton.
"I have a feeling that I shall," said Mr. Stiles, crossing glances withhis friend. "The only thing is my people; they want me to join them atLord Tufton's place."
Mrs. Dutton trembled with delight at being in the company of a man withsuch friends. "What a change shore-life must be to you after the perilsof the sea!" she murmured.
"Ah!" said Mr. Stiles. "True! True!"
"The dreadful fighting," said Mrs. Dutton, closing her eyes andshuddering.
"You get used to it," said the hero, simply. "Hottest time I had I thinkwas at the bombardment of Alexandria. I stood alone. All the men whohadn't been shot down had fled, and the shells were bursting round melike--like fireworks."
The widow clasped her hands and shuddered again.
"I was standing just behind 'im, waiting any orders he might give," saidMr. Burton.
"Were you?" said Mr. Stiles, sharply--"were you? I don't remember it,Burton."
"Why," said Mr. Burton, with a faint laugh, "I was just behind you, sir.If you remember, sir, I said to you that it was pretty hot work."
Mr. Stiles affected to consider. "No, Burton," he said, bluffly--"no; sofar as my memory goes I was the only man there."
"A bit of a shell knocked my cap off, sir," persisted Mr. Burton, makinglaudable efforts to keep his temper.
"That'll do, my man," said the other, sharply; "not another word. Youforget yourself."
He turned to the widow and began to chat about "his people" again todivert her attention from Mr. Burton, who seemed likely to causeunpleasantness by either bursting a blood-vessel or falling into a fit.
"My people have heard of Burton," he said, with a slight glance to seehow that injured gentleman was progressing. "He has often shared mydangers. We have been in many tight places together. Do you rememberthose two nights when we were hidden in the chimney at the palace of theSultan of Zanzibar, Burton?"
"I should think I do," said Mr. Burton, recovering somewhat.
"Stuck so tight we could hardly breathe," continued the other.
"I shall never forget it as long as I live," said Mr. Burton, whothought that the other was trying to make amends for his recentindiscretion.
"Oh, do tell me about it, Admiral Peters," cried Mrs. Dutton.
"Surely Burton has told you that?" said Mr. Stiles.
"Never breathed a word of it," said the widow, gazing somewhatreproachfully at the discomfited Mr. Burton.
"Well, tell it now, Burton," said Mr. Stiles.
"You tell it better than I do, sir," said the other.
"No, no," said Mr. Stiles, whose powers of invention were not always tobe relied upon. "You tell it; it's your story."
The widow looked from one to the other. "It's your story, sir," said Mr.Burton.
"No, I won't tell it," said Mr. Stiles. "It wouldn't be fair to you,Burton. I'd forgotten that when I spoke. Of course, you were young atthe time, still----"
"I done nothing that I'm ashamed of, sir," said Mr. Burton, tremblingwith passion.
"I think it's very hard if I'm not to hear it," said Mrs. Dutton, withher most fascinating air.
Mr. Stiles gave her a significant glance, and screwing up his lipsnodded in the direction of Mr. Burton.
"At any rate, you were in the chimney with me, sir," said thatunfortunate.
"Ah!" said the other, severely. "But what was I there for, my man?"
Mr. Burton could not tell him; he could only stare at him in a frenzy ofpassion and dismay.
"What were you there for, Admiral Peters?" inquired Mrs. Dutton.
"I was there, ma'am," said the unspeakable Mr. Stiles, slowly--"I wasthere to save the life of Burton. I never deserted my men---never.Whatever scrapes they got into I always did my best to get them out.News was brought to me that Burton was suffocating in the chimney of theSultan's favourite wife, and I----"
"Sultan's favourite wife!" gasped Mrs. Dutton, staring hard at Mr.Burton, who had collapsed in his chair and was regarding the ingeniousMr. Stiles with open-mouthed stupefaction. "Good gracious! I--I neverheard of such a thing. I am surprised!"
"So am I," said Mr. Burton, thickly. "I--I---"
"How did you escape, Admiral Peters?" inquired the widow, turning fromthe flighty Burton in indignation.
Mr. Stiles shook his head. "To tell you that would be to bring theFrench Consul into it," he said, gently. "I oughtn't to have mentionedthe subject at all. Burton had the good sense not to."
The widow murmured acquiescence, and stole a
look at the prosaic figureof the latter gentleman which was full of scornful curiosity. With somediffidence she invited the admiral to stay to supper, and was obviouslydelighted when he accepted.
In the character of admiral Mr. Stiles enjoyed himself amazingly, hisone regret being that no discriminating theatrical manager was presentto witness his performance. His dignity increased as the evening woreon, and from good-natured patronage of the unfortunate Burton heprogressed gradually until he was shouting at him. Once, when he hadoccasion to ask Mr. Burton if he intended to contradict him, hisappearance was so terrible that his hostess turned pale and trembledwith excitement.
Mr. Burton adopted the air for his own use as soon as they were clear ofMrs. Dutton's doorstep, and in good round terms demanded of Mr. Stileswhat he meant by it.
"It was a difficult part to play, George," responded his friend. "Weought to have rehearsed it a bit. I did the best I could."
"Best you could?" stormed Mr. Burton. "Telling lies and ordering meabout?"
"I had to play the part without any preparation, George," said theother, firmly. "You got yourself into the difficulty by saying that Iwas the admiral in the first place. I'll do better next time we go."
Mr. Burton, with a nasty scowl, said that there was not going to be anynext time, but Mr. Stiles smiled as one having superior information.Deaf first to hints and then to requests to seek his pleasure elsewhere,he stayed on, and Mr. Burton was soon brought to realise thedifficulties which beset the path of the untruthful.
The very next visit introduced a fresh complication, it being evident tothe most indifferent spectator that Mr. Stiles and the widow weregetting on very friendly terms. Glances of unmistakable tendernesspassed between them, and on the occasion of the third visit Mr. Burtonsat an amazed and scandalised spectator of a flirtation of the mostpronounced description. A despairing attempt on his part to lead theconversation into safer and, to his mind, more becoming channels onlyincreased his discomfiture. Neither of them took any notice of it, and aminute later Mr. Stiles called the widow a "saucy little baggage," andsaid that she reminded him of the Duchess of Marford.
"I used to think she was the most charming woman in England," he said,meaningly.
Mrs. Dutton simpered and looked down; Mr. Stiles moved his chair alittle closer to her, and then glanced thoughtfully at his friend.
"Burton," he said.
"Sir," snapped the other.
"Run back and fetch my pipe for me," said Mr. Stiles. "I left it on themantelpiece."
Mr. Burton hesitated, and, the widow happening to look away, shook hisfist at his superior officer.
"Look sharp," said Mr. Stiles, in a peremptory voice.
"I'm very sorry, sir," said Mr. Burton, whose wits were being sharpenedby misfortune, "but I broke it."
"Broke it?" repeated the other.
"Yes, sir," said Mr. Burton. "I knocked it on the floor and trod on itby accident; smashed it to powder."
Mr. Stiles rated him roundly for his carelessness, and asked him whetherhe knew that it was a present from the Italian Ambassador.
"Burton was always a clumsy man," he said, turning to the widow. "He hadthe name for it when he was on the Destruction with me; 'BunglingBurton' they called him."
He divided the rest of the evening between flirting and recountingvarious anecdotes of Mr. Burton, none of which were at all flatteringeither to his intelligence or to his sobriety, and the victim, after oneor two futile attempts at contradiction, sat in helpless wrath as he sawthe infatuation of the widow. They were barely clear of the house beforehis pent-up emotions fell in an avalanche of words on the faithless Mr.Stiles.
"I can't help being good-looking," said the latter, with a smirk.
"Your good looks wouldn't hurt anybody," said Mr. Burton, in a gratingvoice; "it's the admiral business that fetches her. It's turned 'erhead."
Mr. Stiles smiled. "She'll say 'snap' to my 'snip' any time," heremarked. "And remember, George, there'll always be a knife and forklaid for you when you like to come."
"I dessay," retorted Mr. Burton, with a dreadful sneer. "Only as ithappens I'm going to tell 'er the truth about you first thing to-morrowmorning. If I can't have 'er you sha'n't."
"That'll spoil your chance, too," said Mr. Stiles. "She'd never forgiveyou for fooling her like that. It seems a pity neither of us should gether."
"You're a sarpent," exclaimed Mr. Burton, savagely--"a sarpent that I'vewarmed in my bosom and----"
"There's no call to be indelicate, George," said Mr. Stiles,reprovingly, as he paused at the door of the house. "Let's sit down andtalk it over quietly."
Mr. Burton followed him into the room and, taking a chair, waited.
"It's evident she's struck with me," said Mr. Stiles, slowly; "it's alsoevident that if you tell her the truth it might spoil my chances. Idon't say it would, but it might. That being so, I'm agreeable to goingback without seeing her again by the six-forty train to-morrow morningif it's made worth my while."
"Made worth your while?" repeated the other.
"Certainly," said the unblushing Mr. Stiles. "She's not a bad-lookingwoman--for her age--and it's a snug little business."
Mr. Burton, suppressing his choler, affected to ponder. "If 'arf asovereign--" he said, at last.
"Half a fiddlestick!" said the other, impatiently. "I want ten pounds.You've just drawn your pension, and, besides, you've been a saving manall your life."
"Ten pounds?" gasped the other. "D'ye think I've got a gold-mine in theback garden?"
Mr. Stiles leaned back in his chair and crossed his feet. "I don't gofor a penny less," he said, firmly. "Ten pounds and my ticket back. Ifyou call me any more o' those names I'll make it twelve."
"And what am I to explain to Mrs. Dutton?" demanded Mr. Burton, after aquarter of an hour's altercation.
"Anything you like," said his generous friend. "Tell her I'm engaged tomy cousin, and our marriage keeps being put off and off on account of myeccentric behaviour. And you can say that that was caused by a splinterof a shell striking my head. Tell any lies you like; I shall never turnup again to contradict them. If she tries to find out things about theadmiral, remind her that she promised to keep his visit here secret."
For over an hour Mr. Burton sat weighing the advantages anddisadvantages of this proposal, and then--Mr. Stiles refusing to sealthe bargain without--shook hands upon it and went off to bed in a stateof mind hovering between homicide and lunacy.
He was up in good time next morning, and, returning the shortestpossible answers to the remarks of Mr. Stiles, who was in excellentfeather, went with him to the railway station to be certain of hisdeparture.
It was a delightful morning, cool and bright, and, despite hismisfortunes. Mr. Burton's spirits began to rise as he thought of hisapproaching deliverance. Gloom again overtook him at the booking-office,where the unconscionable Mr. Stiles insisted firmly upon a first-classticket.
"Who ever heard of an admiral riding third?" he demanded, indignantly.
"But they don't know you're an admiral," urged Mr. Burton, trying tohumour him.
"No; but I feel like one," said Mr. Stiles, slapping his pocket. "I'vealways felt curious to see what it feels like travelling first-class;besides, you can tell Mrs. Dutton."
"I could tell 'er that in any case," returned Mr. Burton.
Mr. Stiles looked shocked, and, time pressing, Mr. Burton, breathing sohard that it impeded his utterance, purchased a first-class ticket andconducted him to the carriage. Mr. Stiles took a seat by the window andlolling back put his foot up on the cushions opposite. A large bell rangand the carriage-doors were slammed.
"Good-bye, George," said the traveller, putting his head to the window."I've enjoyed my visit very much."
"Good riddance," said Mr. Burton, savagely.
Mr. Stiles shook his head. "I'm letting you off easy," he said, slowly."If it hadn't ha' been for one little thing I'd have had the widowmyself."
"What little thing?" demanded the other, as the
train began to glideslowly out.
"My wife," said Mr. Stiles, as a huge smile spread slowly over his face."Good-bye, George, and don't forget to give my love when you go round."
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