“I should give her the sack first thing,” said Mr. Wotton.

Mr. Davis knocked again, and again.  The maid reappeared, and after surveying them through the glass opened the door a little way and parleyed.

“I want to see your missis,” said Mr. Davis, fiercely.

“What for?” demanded the girl.

“You tell ’er,” said Mr. Davis, inserting his foot just in time, “you tell ’er that there’s two gentlemen here what have brought ’er news of her husband, and look sharp about it.”

“They was cast away with ’im,” said Mr. Wotton.

“On a desert island,” said Mr. Davis.  He pushed his way in, followed by his friend, and a head that had been leaning over the banisters was suddenly withdrawn.  For a moment he stood irresolute in the tiny passage, and then, with a husband’s boldness, he entered the front room and threw himself into an easy-chair.  Mr. Wotton, after a scared glance around the well-furnished room, seated himself on the extreme edge of the most uncomfortable chair he could find and coughed nervously.

[Illustration:  “You tell ’er that there’s two gentlemen here what have brought ’er news of her husband”]

“Better not be too sudden with her,” he whispered.  “You don’t want her to faint, or anything of that sort.  Don’t let ’er know who you are at first; let her find it out for herself.”

Mr. Davis, who was also suffering from the stiff grandeur of his surroundings, nodded.

“P’r’aps you’d better start, in case she reckernizes my voice,” he said, slowly.  “Pitch it in strong about me and ’ow I was always wondering what had ’appened to her.”

“You’re in luck, that’s wot you are,” said his friend, enviously.  “I’ve only seen furniture like thiss in shop windows before.  H’sh!  Here she comes.”

He started, and both men tried to look at their ease as a stiff rustling sounded from the stairs.  Then the door opened and a tall, stoutly-built old lady with white hair swept into the room and stood regarding them.

Mr. Davis, unprepared for the changes wrought by thirty-five years, stared at her aghast.  The black silk dress, the gold watch-chain, and huge cameo brooch did not help to reassure him.

“Good-good afternoon, ma’am,” said Mr. Wotton, in a thin voice.

The old lady returned the greeting, and, crossing to a chair and seating herself in a very upright fashion, regarded him calmly.

“We—­we called to see you about a dear old pal—­friend, I mean,” continued Mr. Wotton; “one o’ the best.  The best.”

“Yes?” said the old lady.

“He’s been missing,” said Mr. Wotton, watching closely for any symptoms of fainting, “for thir-ty-five years.  Thir-ty-five years ago-very much against his wish-he left ’is young and handsome wife to go for a sea v’y’ge, and was shipwrecked and cast away on a desert island.”

“Yes?” said the old lady again.