“She’s a lone widder,” continued Mr. Benn, shaking his head, “and the Beehive is in a lonely place.  It’s right through the village, and the nearest house is arf a mile off.”

“Silly place for a pub,” commented Mr. Travers.

“I’ve been telling her ’ow unsafe it is,” said the boatswain.  “I’ve been telling her that she wants a man to protect her, and she only laughs at me.  She don’t believe it; d’ye see?  Likewise I’m a small man—­small, but stiff.  She likes tall men.”

“Most women do,” said Mr. Travers, sitting upright and instinctively twisting his moustache.  “When I was in the ranks—­”

“My idea is,” continued the boatswain, slightly raising his voice, “to kill two birds with one stone—­prove to her that she does want being protected, and that I’m the man to protect her.  D’ye take my meaning, mate?”

The soldier reached out a hand and felt the other’s biceps.  “Like a lump o’ wood,” he said, approvingly.

“My opinion is,” said the boatswain, with a faint smirk, “that she loves me without knowing it.”

“They often do,” said Mr. Travers, with a grave shake of his head.

“Consequently I don’t want ’er to be disappointed,” said the other.

“It does you credit,” remarked Mr. Travers.

“I’ve got a good head,” said Mr. Benn, “else I shouldn’t ’ave got my rating as boatswain as soon as I did; and I’ve been turning it over in my mind, over and over agin, till my brain-pan fair aches with it.  Now, if you do what I want you to to-night and it comes off all right, damme I’ll make it a quid.”

“Go on, Vanderbilt,” said Mr. Travers; “I’m listening.”

The boatswain gazed at him fixedly.  “You meet me ’ere in this spot at eleven o’clock to-night,” he said, solemnly; “and I’ll take you to her ’ouse and put you through a little winder I know of.  You goes upstairs and alarms her, and she screams for help.  I’m watching the house, faithful-like, and hear ’er scream.  I dashes in at the winder, knocks you down, and rescues her.  D’ye see?”

“I hear,” corrected Mr. Travers, coldly.

“She clings to me,” continued the boat-swain, with a rapt expression of face, “in her gratitood, and, proud of my strength and pluck, she marries me.”

“An’ I get a five years’ honeymoon,” said the soldier.

The boatswain shook his head and patted the other’s shoulder.  “In the excitement of the moment you spring up and escape,” he said, with a kindly smile.  “I’ve thought it all out.  You can run much faster than I can; any-ways, you will.  The nearest ’ouse is arf a mile off, as I said, and her servant is staying till to-morrow at ’er mother’s, ten miles away.”

Mr. Travers rose to his feet and stretched himself.  “Time I was toddling,” he said, with a yawn.  “Thanks for amusing me, mate.”

“You won’t do it?” said the boatswain, eyeing him with much concern.