“Silly head?” repeated Mr. Sharp, with an alarming change of manner.  “Say it again.”

Mr. Culpepper repeated it with gusto.

“Very good,” said Mr. Sharp.  He seized him suddenly and, pushing him backwards into his easychair, stood over him with such hideous contortions of visage that Mr. Culpepper was horrified.  “Now you sit there and keep quite still,” he said, with smouldering ferocity.  “Where did you put carving-knife?  Eh?  Where’s carving-knife?”

“No, no, Bert,” said Mr. Culpepper, clutching at his sleeve.  “I—­I was only joking.  You—­you ain’t quite yourself, Bert.”

“What?” demanded the other, rolling his eyes, and clenching his fists.

“I—­I mean you’ve improved,” said Mr. Culpepper, hurriedly.  “Wonderful, you have.”

Mr. Sharp’s countenance cleared a little.  “Let’s make a night of it,” he said.  “Don’t move, whatever you do.”

[Illustration:  He felt the large and clumsy hand of Mr. Butler take him by the collar]

He closed the door and, putting the wine and a couple of glasses on the mantelpiece, took a chair by Mr. Culpepper and prepared to spend the evening.  His instructions were too specific to be disregarded, and three times he placed his arm about the waist of the frenzied Mr. Culpepper and took him for a lumbering dance up and down the room.  In the intervals between dances he regaled him with interminable extracts from speeches made at the debating society and recitations learned at school.  Suggestions relating to bed, thrown out by Mr. Culpepper from time to time, were repelled with scorn.  And twice, in deference to Mr. Sharp’s desires, he had to join in the chorus of a song.

Ten o’clock passed, and the hands of the clock crawled round to eleven.  The hour struck, and, as though in answer, the door opened and the agreeable face of Florrie Garland appeared.  Behind her, to the intense surprise of both gentlemen, loomed the stalwart figure of Mr. Jack Butler.

“I thought he might be useful, uncle,” said Miss Garland, coming into the room.  “Auntie wouldn’t let me come down before.”

Mr. Sharp rose in a dazed fashion and saw Mr. Culpepper grasp Mr. Butler by the hand.  More dazed still, he felt the large and clumsy hand of Mr. Butler take him by the collar and propel him with some violence along the small passage, while another hand, which he dimly recognized as belonging to Mr. Culpepper, was inserted in the small of his back.  Then the front door opened and he was thrust out into the night.  The door closed, and a low feminine laugh sounded from a window above.

[Illustration:  ’I tell you, I am as innercent as a new-born babe’.]

SKILLED ASSISTANCE

The night-watchman, who had left his seat on the jetty to answer the gate-bell, came back with disgust written on a countenance only too well designed to express it.