Mrs. Silk got up from her chair and stood confronting him with her hand grasping the back of it.  Her cold eyes gleamed and her face worked with spite as she tried in vain to catch his eye.  Of Mr. Nugent and his ingenuous surprise at her behaviour she took no notice at all.

“You’re a deceiver,” she gasped; “you’ve been behaving like a single man and everybody thought you was a single man.”

[Illustration:  “‘You’re a deceiver,’ she gasped.”]

“I hope you haven’t been paying attentions to anybody, Sam,” said Mr. Nugent in a shocked voice.

“A-ah,” said Mrs. Silk, shivering with anger.  “Ask ’im; the deceiving villain.  Ask anybody, and see what they’ll tell you.  Oh, you wicked man, I wonder you can look me in the face!”

Truth to tell, Mr. Wilks was looking in any direction but hers.  His eyes met Nugent’s, but there was a look of such stern disdain on that gentleman’s face that he was fain to look away again.

“Was it a friend of yours?” inquired the artless Mr. Nugent.

“Never mind,” said Mrs. Silk, recovering herself.  “Never mind who it was.  You wait till I go and tell Teddy,” she continued, turning to the trembling Mr. Wilks.  “If ’e’s got the ’art of a man in ’im you’ll see.”

With this dire threat, and turning occasionally to bestow another fierce glance upon the steward, she walked to the door and, opening it to its full extent, closed it behind her with a crash and darted across the alley to her own house.  The two men gazed at each other without speaking, and then Mr. Wilks, stepping over to the door, turned the key in the lock.

“You’re not afraid of Teddy?” said the staring Nugent.

“Teddy!” said Mr. Wilks, snapping his huge fingers.  “I’m not afraid o’ fifty Teddies; but she might come back with ’im.  If it ‘adn’t ha’ been for you, sir, I don’t know wot wouldn’t ’ave happened.”

“Go and draw some beer and get me a clean pipe,” said Nugent, dropping into a chair.  “We’ve both been mercifully preserved, Sam, and the best thing we can do is to drink to our noble selves and be more careful for the future.”

Mr. Wilks obeyed, and again thanking him warmly for his invaluable services sat down to compile a few facts about his newly acquired wife, warranted to stand the severest cross-examination which might be brought to bear upon them, a task interspersed with malicious reminiscences of Mrs. Silk’s attacks on his liberty.  He also insisted on giving up his bed to Nugent for the night.

“I suppose,” he said later on, as Mr. Nugent, after a faint objection or two, took his candle—­“I suppose this yarn about my being married will get about?”

“I suppose so,” said Nugent, yawning, as he paused with his foot on the stair.  “What about it?”

“Nothing,” said Mr. Wilks, in a somewhat dissatisfied voice.  “Nothing.”

“What about it?” repeated Mr. Nugent, sternly.