Mrs. Poskett was quite equal to the occasion. She made Lord Otford a magnificent curtsey, just as she had curtseyed to the Lord Mayor’s Lady, years ago. "Happy to meet any friend of my future husband," she said, with charming condescension. Lord Otford responded to her curtsey with an equally elaborate bow. "Am I to understand—?" "Yes, Jack," interposed Sir Peter, impatiently, "understand. Understand without further palaver." Lord Otford bowed again. "My felicitations," said he. Mrs. Poskett had expected more; but Lord Otford was evidently preoccupied, and abruptly changed the subject. "Madam, can you spare him a little while?" Mrs. Poskett was much put out. Was she to be thrust aside so unceremoniously in the first flush of her triumph? She bridled, and answered with some asperity, "I am sure no real friend of Sir Peter’s would wish to tell him anything his future wife may not hear." Lord Otford recognised he had made a tactical mistake. He seized one of her plump hands, kissed it, and explained with an air of the greatest consideration, "I assure you, Ma’am, the matter is strictly personal to myself." How could any lady resist such delightful manners? Mrs. Poskett melted at once. She shook a playful finger at him. "Naughty Lord Otford!"—she turned to the Admiral—"Well, Peter; I ’ll wait at the gate. But not more than five minutes, mind!" And with a roguish shake of all her curls and all her ribbons she tripped up to the Admiral’s gate, where she stood planning how his house and hers were to be turned into one, and how the sweet pea was to be trained over both, at the same time striving to hear as much as possible of what the two friends were saying. "Peter!" exclaimed Lord Otford, as soon as she was out of earshot, "Jack ’s disappeared!" The Admiral’s conscience smote him uneasily. He knew the rascally Jack was in Doctor Sternroyd’s house; he himself had helped to get him there; and here was the unfortunate father, his own bosom friend, in distress. What was he to do? Betray Jack? Impossible. No. He would see the matter through. At any rate, he would gain time. "Serves you right," he growled. Lord Otford was deeply hurt. "Did I say, ’Serves you right,’ just now?" "Just now?" repeated Sir Peter, not grasping his friend’s meaning. Lord Otford pointed with his gold-headed cane to where the widow was examining the houses. "Otford!" cried the Admiral, angrily; but his friend interrupted him impatiently. "Peter! He ’s run away with that gel!" "That he has n’t!" replied Sir Peter, greatly relieved at being able to speak the truth for once. "The gel’s here." "Fact?" asked Lord Otford. "Solemn," affirmed the Admiral. Lord Otford strode up and down in deep thought. He brought himself up in front of the Admiral. There was evidently something more on his mind. "Peter," he said, "do you know who her mother is?"