Captain Niblett’s nerve failed him at the responsibility.
“It’s your plan, Captain Barber,” he said, impressively, “and nobody can tell a man like you how it should be done. It wants acting, and you’ve got to have a good memory to remember that you haven’t got a memory.”
“Say that agin,” said Captain Barber, breathing thickly.
Captain Nibletts repeated it, and Captain Barber, after clearing his brain with a glass of spirits, bade him a solemn good-night, and proceeded slowly to his home. The door was opened by Mrs. Church, and a hum of voices from the front room indicated company. Captain Barber, hanging his hat on a peg, entered the room to discover Mrs. Banks and daughter, attended by Mr. Gibson.
“Where’s Fred?” he asked, slowly, as he took a seat.
“Who?” said Miss Banks, with a little scream.
“Lawk-a-mussy, bless the man,” said her mother. “I never did.”
“Not come in yet?” asked Barber, looking round with a frightful stare. “The Foam’s up!”
The company exchanged glances of consternation.
“Why, is he alive?” enquired Mrs. Church, sharply.