"I say, this is awfully mixed, Mr. Gordon, because I know you told granny you were married to Pen!"
Gordon gulped something down. It was probably very bad language.
"So—so I am," he said, sternly, without looking at Bob.
"Rivaulx says so, too."
"The devil!" cried Gordon.
"And so does Goby and Rivaulx and Bramber and De Vere and all of 'em!"
Gordon fell back on his pillows.
"So you see," said Bob, "we're no further than we were, except that Weekes, who used to be Pen's maid, came to granny this afternoon and told her, the beast, that Pen had married Timothy Bunting!"
Gordon bounced out of bed in his night-shirt.
"Who the devil is Timothy Bunting?" he roared.