"I should think I do," said Mr. Burton, recovering somewhat.
"Stuck so tight we could hardly breathe," continued the other.
"I shall never forget it as long as I live," said Mr. Burton, who thought that the other was trying to make amends for his recent indiscretion.
"Oh, do tell me about it, Admiral Peters," cried Mrs. Dutton.
"Surely Burton has told you that?" said Mr. Stiles.
"Never breathed a word of it," said the widow, gazing somewhat reproachfully at the discomfited Mr. Burton.
"Well, tell it now, Burton," said Mr. Stiles.
"You tell it better than I do, sir," said the other.
"No, no," said Mr. Stiles, whose powers of invention were not always to be relied upon. "You tell it; it's your story."
The widow looked from one to the other. "It's your story, sir," said Mr. Burton.
"No, I won't tell it," said Mr. Stiles. "It wouldn't be fair to you, Burton. I'd forgotten that when I spoke. Of course, you were young at the time, still–"
"I done nothing that I'm ashamed of, sir," said Mr. Burton, trembling with passion.
"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.
Mr. Stiles shook his head. "To tell you that would be to bring the French Consul into it," he said, gently. "I oughtn't to have mentioned the subject at all. Burton had the good sense not to."
The widow murmured acquiescence, and stole a look at the prosaic figure of the latter gentleman which was full of scornful curiosity. With some diffidence she invited the admiral to stay to supper, and was obviously delighted when he accepted.
In the character of admiral Mr. Stiles enjoyed himself amazingly, his one regret being that no discriminating theatrical manager was present to witness his performance. His dignity increased as the evening wore on, and from good-natured patronage of the unfortunate Burton he progressed gradually until he was shouting at him. Once, when he had occasion to ask Mr. Burton if he intended to contradict him, his appearance was so terrible that his hostess turned pale and trembled with excitement.
Mr. Burton adopted the air for his own use as soon as they were clear of Mrs. Dutton's doorstep, and in good round terms demanded of Mr. Stiles what he meant by it.
"It was a difficult part to play, George," responded his friend. "We ought to have rehearsed it a bit. I did the best I could."
"Best you could?" stormed Mr. Burton. "Telling lies and ordering me about?"
"I had to play the part without any preparation, George," said the other, firmly. "You got yourself into the difficulty by saying that I was the admiral in the first place. I'll do better next time we go."
Mr. Burton, with a nasty scowl, said that there was not going to be any next time, but Mr. Stiles smiled as one having superior information. Deaf first to hints and then to requests to seek his pleasure elsewhere, he stayed on, and Mr. Burton was soon brought to realise the difficulties which beset the path of the untruthful.
The very next visit introduced a fresh complication, it being evident to the most indifferent spectator that Mr. Stiles and the widow were getting on very friendly terms. Glances of unmistakable tenderness passed between them, and on the occasion of the third visit Mr. Burton sat an amazed and scandalised spectator of a flirtation of the most pronounced description. A despairing attempt on his part to lead the conversation into safer and, to his mind, more becoming channels only increased his discomfiture. Neither of them took any notice of it, and a minute later Mr. Stiles called the widow a "saucy little baggage," and said that she reminded him of the Duchess of Marford.