“I met Cap’n Walsh the other night,” said Trimblett; “we hadn’t seen each other for years, and we went into the Golden Fleece to have a drink. You know what Walsh is when he’s ashore. And he’s a man that won’t be beaten. He had had four tries to get a ’cocktail’ right that he had tasted in New York, and while he was superintending the mixing of the fifth I slipped out. The others were all right as far as I could judge; but that’s Walsh all over.” “Well?” said Hartley. “I came home and found Peter sitting all alone in the dumps,” continued the captain. “He has been very down of late, and, what was worse, he had got a bottle of whiskey on the table. That’s a fatal thing to begin; and partly to keep him company, but mainly to prevent him drinking more than was good for him, I helped him finish the bottle—there wasn’t much in it.” “Well?” said Hartley again, as the captain paused. “He got talking about his troubles,” said the captain, slowly. “You know how things are, and, like a fool, I tried to cheer him up by agreeing with him that Mrs. Chinnery would very likely make things easy for him by marrying again. In fact, so far as I remember, I even helped him to think of the names of one or two likely men. He said she’d make anybody as good a wife as a man could wish.” “So she would,” said Hartley, looking at him with sudden interest. “In fact, I have often wondered—” “He went on talking like that,” continued the captain, hastily, “and out of politeness and good feeling I agreed with him. What else could I do? Then—I didn’t take much notice of it because, as I said, he was drinking whiskey—he—he sort of wondered why—why—” “Why you didn’t offer to marry her?” interrupted Hartley. The captain nodded. “It took my breath away,” he said, impressively, “and I lost my presence of mind. Instead of speaking out plain I tried to laugh it off—just to spare his feelings—and said I wasn’t worthy of her.” “What did he say?” inquired Hartley, curiously, after another long pause. “Nothing,” replied the captain. “Not a single word. He just gave me a strange look, shook my hand hard, and went off to bed. I’ve been uneasy in my mind ever since. I hardly slept a wink last night; and Peter behaves as though there is some mysterious secret between us. What would you do?” Mr. Hartley took his friend’s arm and paced thoughtfully up and down the garden. “Why not marry her?” he said, at last. “Because I don’t want to,” said the captain, almost violently. “You’d be safer at sea, then,” said the other. “The ship won’t be ready for sea for weeks yet,” said Captain Trimblett, dolefully. “She’s going on a time-charter, and before she is taken over she has got to be thoroughly overhauled. As fast as they put one thing right something else is found to be wrong.” “Go to London and stay with your children for a bit, then,” said Hartley. “Give out that you are only going for a day or two, and then don’t turn up till the ship sails.”