“I think it’s very hard if I’m not to hear it,” said Mrs. Dutton, with her most fascinating air.
Mr. Stiles gave her a significant glance, and screwing up his lips nodded in the direction of Mr. Burton.
“At any rate, you were in the chimney with me, sir,” said that unfortunate.
“Ah!” said the other, severely. “But what was I there for, my man?”
Mr. Burton could not tell him; he could only stare at him in a frenzy of passion and dismay.
“What were you there for, Admiral Peters?” inquired Mrs. Dutton.
“I was there, ma’am,” said the unspeakable Mr. Stiles, slowly—“I was there to save the life of Burton. I never deserted my men—never. Whatever scrapes they got into I always did my best to get them out. News was brought to me that Burton was suffocating in the chimney of the Sultan’s favourite wife, and I——”
“Sultan’s favourite wife!” gasped Mrs. Dutton, staring hard at Mr. Burton, who had collapsed in his chair and was regarding the ingenious Mr. Stiles with open-mouthed stupefaction. “Good gracious! I—I never heard of such a thing. I am surprised!”
“So am I,” said Mr. Burton, thickly. “I—I——”
“How did you escape, Admiral Peters?” inquired the widow, turning from the flighty Burton in indignation.