“‘Yes,’ I replied.
“‘And she is to marry the survivor, I understand?’
“‘So I am told,’ said I.
“‘Back out, Bob, then; back out, at the rate of a hunt. Old Mick Macnamara is married.’
“‘Married!’ I exclaimed.
“‘Poz,’ said he. ‘I drew the articles myself. He married his housemaid, a girl of eighteen; and,’—here he whispered.
“‘What,’ I cried, ‘six months!’
“‘Six months,’ said he, ‘and no mistake.’
“‘Ensign Brady,’ said I, immediately coming forward, ‘there has been a strange misconception in this business. I here declare, in presence of this honourable company, that you have acted throughout like a man of honour, and a gentleman; and you leave the ground without a stain on your character.’
“Brady hopped three feet off the ground with joy at the unexpected deliverance. He forgot all etiquette, and came forward to shake me by the hand.