Part 21 (1/2)

”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.

”He's a-sitting in the garden looking at his flowers,” she replied.

”Will you go through?”

Captain Trimblett went through. His head was erect and his face and eyes blazing. A little old gentleman, endowed with the far sight peculiar to men who have followed the sea, who was sitting in a deck-chair at the bottom of the garden, glimpsed him and at once collapsed. By the time the captain reached the chair he discovered a weasel-faced, shrunken old figure in a snuff-coloured suit of clothes sunk in a profound slumber.

He took him by the arms and shook him roughly.

”Yes? Halloa! What's matter?” inquired Captain Sellers, half waking.

Captain Trimblett arched his hand over his mouth and bent to an ear apparently made of yellow parchment.

”Cap'n Sellers,” he said, in a stern, thrilling voice, ”I've got a bone to pick with you.”

The old man opened his eyes wide and sat blinking at him. ”I've been asleep,” he said, with a senile chuckle. ”How do, Cap'n Trimblett?”

”I've got a bone to pick with you,” repeated the other.

”Eh?” said Captain Sellers, putting his hand to his ear.

”A-bone-to-pick-with-you,” said the incensed Trimblett, raising his voice. ”What do you mean by it?”

”Eh?” said Captain Sellers, freshly.

”What do you mean by saying things about me?” bawled Trimblett. ”How dare you go spreading false reports about me? I'll have the law of you.”

Captain Sellers smiled vaguely and shook his head.

”I'll prosecute you,” bellowed Captain Trimblett. ”You're shamming, you old fox. You can hear what I say plain enough. You've been spreading reports that I'm going to-”

He stopped and looked round just in time. Attracted by the volume of his voice, the housekeeper had come to the back door, two faces appeared at the next-door windows, and the back of Mr. Peter Truefitt was just disappearing inside his summer-house.

”I know you are talking,” said Captain Sellers, plaintively, ”because I can see your lips moving. It's a great affliction-deafness.”

He fell back in his chair again, and, with a crafty old eye c.o.c.ked on the windows next door, fingered a scanty tuft of white hair on his chin and smiled weakly. Captain Trimblett controlled himself by an effort, and, selecting a piece of paper from a bundle of letters in his pocket, made signs for a pencil. Captain Sellers shook his head; then he glanced round uneasily as Trimblett, with an exclamation of satisfaction, found an inch in his waistcoat-pocket and began to write. He nodded sternly at the paper when he had finished, and handed it to Captain Sellers.