“Of course, I quite forgot,” he said, apologetically. “How stupid of me! I hope that you’ll accept my warmest congratulations and be very, very happy. I can’t tell you how pleased I am. But for the life of me I can’t see why it should worry Hartley.” “Congratulations?” said the captain, eying him in surprise. “What about?” “Your marriage,” replied Robert. “I only heard of it on my way to the office, and your talking put it out of my head.” “_Me_?” said Captain Trimblett, going purple with suppressed emotion. “My _marriage_? I’m not going to be married. Not at all.” “What do you mean by ’not at all?’” inquired Mr. Vyner, looking puzzled. “It isn’t a thing you can do by halves.” “I’m not going to be married at all,” said the captain, raising his voice. “I never thought of such a thing. Who—who told you?” “A little bird,” said Robert, with a simpering air. Captain Trimblett took out a handkerchief, and after blowing his nose violently and wiping his heated face expressed an overpowering desire to wring the little bird’s neck. “Who was it?” he repeated. “A little bird of the name of Sellers—Captain Sellers,” replied Robert. “I met him on my way here, hopping about in the street, simply brimming over with the news.” “There isn’t a word of truth in it,” said the agitated captain. “I never thought of such a thing. That old mischief-making mummy must be mad—stark, starin’ mad.” “Dear me!” said Robert, regretfully. “He seems such a dear old chap, and I thought it was so nice to see a man of his age so keenly interested in the love-affairs of a younger generation. Anybody might have thought you were his own son from the way he talked of you.” “I’ll ’son’ him!” said the unhappy captain, vaguely. “He is very deaf,” said Robert, gently, “and perhaps he _may_ have misunderstood somebody. Perhaps somebody told him you were not going to be married. Funny he shouts so, isn’t it? Most deaf people speak in a very low voice.” “Did he shout that?” inquired Captain Trimblett, in a quivering voice. “Bawled it,” replied Mr. Vyner, cheerfully; “but as it isn’t true, I really think that you ought to go and tell Captain Sellers at once. There is no knowing what hopes he may be raising. He is a fine old man; but perhaps, after all, he is a wee bit talkative.” Captain Trimblett, who had risen, stood waiting impatiently until the other had finished, and then, forgetting all about the errand that had brought him there, departed in haste. Mr. Vyner went to the window, and a broad smile lit up his face as he watched the captain hurrying across the bridge. With a blessing on the head of the most notorious old gossip in Salthaven, he returned to his work. Possessed by a single idea, Captain Trimblett sped on his way at a pace against which both his age and his figure protested in vain. By the time he reached Tranquil Vale he was breathless, and hardly able to gasp his inquiry for Captain Sellers to the old housekeeper who attended the door.