He turned to the widow and began to chat about “his people” again to divert her attention from Mr. Burton, who seemed likely to cause unpleasantness by either bursting a blood-vessel or falling into a fit. “My people have heard of Burton,” he said, with a slight glance to see how that injured gentleman was progressing. “He has often shared my dangers. We have been in many tight places together. Do you remember those two nights when we were hidden in the chimney at the palace of the Sultan of Zanzibar, Burton?” “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.”