He retired a step in disorder before the apparition of a maid in cap and apron. A sharp “Not to-day!” sounded in his ears and the door closed again. He faced his friend gasping.
“I should give her the sack first thing,” said Mr. Wotton.
Mr. Davis knocked again, and again. The maid reappeared, and after surveying them through the glass opened the door a little way and parleyed.
“I want to see your missis,” said Mr. Davis, fiercely.
“What for?” demanded the girl.
“You tell 'er,” said Mr. Davis, inserting his foot just in time, “you tell 'er that there's two gentlemen here what have brought 'er news of her husband, and look sharp about it.”
“They was cast away with 'im,” said Mr. Wotton.
“On a desert island,” said Mr. Davis. He pushed his way in, followed by his friend, and a head that had been leaning over the banisters was suddenly withdrawn. For a moment he stood irresolute in the tiny passage, and then, with a husband's boldness, he entered the front room and threw himself into an easy-chair. Mr. Wotton, after a scared glance around the well-furnished room, seated himself on the extreme edge of the most uncomfortable chair he could find and coughed nervously.