“And I,” replied Giles, “am Midshipman Giles Vernon, of the Ajax, ship of the line, now at Portsmouth.”
By the dim light of a lantern in the church porch, I saw the expression of astonishment upon Overton’s face.
“Then,” he stammered, “we are related.”
“Yes,” replied Giles, smiling, “and if you pierce me through with sword or pistol, it will be worth one of the finest estates in the kingdom to you, provided always that old villain, Sir Thomas Vernon, does not marry and have children to spite us.”
Overton reflected, half laughing and half frowning.
“If only you had not passed a blow! Anything else, there could be an accommodation for. It was most unfortunate.”
“Yes, as it turns out,” responded Giles; “but the question is, now, when and where can we meet?”
Just then the great bell of St. Paul’s tolled out the half-hour before midnight, and I, who had been an almost unobserved listener, spoke, out of the fullness of my heart.
“Giles,” said I, “the coach leaves at twelve. If we do not get to Portsmouth in time, we are deserters. Let Captain Overton write to you and fight afterward.”
“Out of the mouths of babes and sucklings comes wisdom,” replied Overton, smiling; and so in two minutes it was settled, Overton agreeing to come to Portsmouth to fight, if Giles could not get leave to meet him half-way between Portsmouth and London. We then bade him good-by, and ran off as fast as our legs could carry us, and barely made the coach.