“Oh, den you hef not heard det I hef hired de White Lady for three years? I shell take her to Cowes next summer. Permit me to introdooce myself--de Chefalier Goldberg, off de house off Goldberg Frères, Findobona and Lutetia.” Mr Judson bowed and murmured politely. “Will you kindly let me see the sick person at once?” he added. “I never like losing a moment in these cases.” The Chevalier waved his hands. “Pressently, pressently, my dear sir. But what did you say--de sick person? Dere iss no one sick.” “Surely I haven’t come to the wrong ship, have I? I understood from the messenger that there was an Englishman on board dangerously ill--and he brought me here.” “Oh, dere iss some mistake! Did det fool employ dose words?” “Well, now that I remember, he did not exactly. He said that the man needed my ghostly services, I believe.” “Ah, det explains de metter!” cried the Chevalier, laughing joyously. “It iss to merry de Englishman, not to bury him, det you are wanted, my dear sir.” “But that’s impossible!” cried the clergyman, starting back. “The marriage would not be legal.” The Chevalier’s countenance exhibited every sign of the deepest dejection. “But dis iss a blow!” he cried. “What iss de law, referend sir?” Mr Judson’s own mind was not quite clear about the matter, but he did his best to give reasons for his very definite impression that the celebration of the marriage of a British subject in foreign parts, without the presence of one of Her Majesty’s representatives, would render all concerned in it liable to divers pains and penalties. The Chevalier heard him to the end with great politeness, putting questions now and then which led the conversation into pleasant little legal byways, and finally observed complacently-- “But dis will be all right, you see, for de merrich iss to take place at Damascus, and de British Consul will be dere.” “Damascus! But you said it was to be on board. What!--why--we are moving!” “We hef been mofink some time, my dear sir. You are on your way to Syria, where de bride and bridegroom are waitink.” “But this is intolerable, sir! This is kidnapping!” “It shell be my endeafour to make it fery tolerable to you, my dear sir--an agreeable extension off your holiday, det iss all.” “But I must go back to my work. I am expected.” “Now, come,” the Chevalier laid a paternal hand on Mr Judson’s coat-sleeve, “be reassonable, my dear sir. Your luggich iss all brought on board. My achent hess telegrephed to your rector det you are summoned suddenly to Pelestine. Your bill at de hotel iss paid, de proprietor iss told det you are unexpectedly called away. Eferythink iss complete, no mystery, no trouble.” “Really, I think you are the coolest hand I ever met.”