"Congratulations?" said the captain, eying him in surprise. "What about?"
"Your marriage," replied Robert. "I only heard of it on my way to the office, and your talking put it out of my head."
"Me?" said Captain Trimblett, going purple with suppressed emotion. "My marriage? I'm not going to be married. Not at all."
"What do you mean by 'not at all?" inquired Mr. Vyner, looking puzzled. "It isn't a thing you can do by halves."
"I'm not going to be married at all," said the captain, raising his voice. "I never thought of such a thing. Who—who told you?"
"A little bird," said Robert, with a simpering air.
Captain Trimblett took out a handkerchief, and after blowing his nose violently and wiping his heated face expressed an overpowering desire to wring the little bird's neck.
"Who was it?" he repeated.
"A little bird of the name of Sellers—Captain Sellers," replied Robert. "I met him on my way here, hopping about in the street, simply brimming over with the news."
"There isn't a word of truth in it," said the agitated captain. "I never thought of such a thing. That old mischief-making mummy must be mad—stark, starin' mad."