"My old admiral," said Mr. Burton, with a gulp that nearly choked him. "You've heard me speak of Admiral Peters?"
"Admiral?" gasped the astonished widow.
"What, a-carrying on like that?"
"He's a reg'lar old sea-dog," said Mr. Burton. "He's staying with me, but of course 'e don't want it known who he is. I couldn't refuse to 'ave a drink with 'im. I was under orders, so to speak."
"No, I suppose not," said Mrs. Dutton, softening. "Fancy him staying with you!"
"He just run down for the night, but I expect he'll be going 'ome in an hour or two," said Mr. Burton, who saw an excellent reason now for hastening his guest's departure.
Mrs. Dutton's face fell. "Dear me," she murmured, "I should have liked to have seen him; you have told me so much about him. If he doesn't go quite so soon, and you would like to bring him here when you come to-night, I'm sure I should be very pleased."
"I'll mention it to 'im," said Mr. Burton, marvelling at the change in her manner.
"Didn't you say once that he was uncle to Lord Buckfast?" inquired Mrs. Dutton, casually.
"Yes," said Mr. Burton, with unnecessary doggedness; "I did."