The Dénouement.
Being naturally a straightforward man, and not gifted with much power in the way of plotting and scheming, Captain Wopper began in time to discover that he had plunged his mental faculties into a disagreeable state of confusion.
“Gillie, my lad,” he said, looking earnestly at his satellite while they walked one afternoon along the Bayswater road in the direction of Kensington, “it’s a bad business altogether.”
Gillie, not having the smallest idea what the Captain referred to, admitted that it was “wery bad indeed,” but suggested that “it might be wuss.”
“It’s such a perplexin’ state o’ things,” pursued the Captain, “to be always bouncin’ up an’ down wi’ hopes, an’ fears, an’ disappointments, like a mad barometer, not knowin’ rightly what’s what or who’s who.”
“Uncommon perplexin’,” assented Gillie. “If I was you, Cappen, I’d heave the barometer overboard along wi’ the main-deck, nail yer colours to the mast, cram the rudder into the lee-scuppers, kick up your flyin’-jib-boom into the new moon, an’ go down stern foremost like a man!”
“Ha!” said the Captain, with a twinkle in the corner of his “weather-eye,” “not a bad notion.”
“Now, my lad, I’m goin’ out to my villa at Kensington to dine. There’s to be company, too, an’ you’re to be waiter—”
“Stooard, you mean?”
“Well, yes—stooard. Now, stooard, you’ll keep a good look-out, an’ clap as tight a stopper on yer tongue as may be. I’ve got a little plot in hand, d’ee see, an’ I want you to help me with it. Keep your eye in a quiet way on Dr Lawrence and Miss Gray. I’ve taken a fancy that perhaps they may be in love with each other. You just let me have your opinion on that pint after dinner, but have a care that you don’t show what you’re up to, and, whatever you do, don’t be cheeky.”