Mr. Wilks mumbled something about a decayed tooth, and to give colour to
the statement continued a series of contortions which made his face ache.

"You should take something for that tooth," said the boarding-master,
with great solicitude. "Wot do you say to a glass o' whisky?"

He motioned to the fatal bottle, which still stood on the table; the
steward caught his breath, and then, rising to the occasion, said that he
had already had a couple of glasses, and they had done no good.

"What's your message?" inquired Jack Nugent, impatiently.

"I'm just going to tell you," said Mr. Smith. "I was out early this
morning, strolling down by the harbour to get a little appetite for
breakfast, when who should I see coming along, looking as though 'e 'ad
just come from a funeral, but Cap'n Nugent! I was going to pass 'im, but
he stopped me and asked me to take a message from 'im to 'is old and
faithful steward, Mr. Wilks."

"Why, has he gone away?" exclaimed Mrs. Kingdom.

"His old and faithful steward," repeated Mr. Smith, motioning her to
silence. "'Tell 'im,' he says, 'that I am heartily ashamed of myself for
wot took place last night--and him, too. Tell 'im that, after my
father's 'art proved too much for me, I walked the streets all night, and
now I can't face may injured son and family yet awhile, and I'm off to
London till it has blown over.'"

"But what's it all about?" demanded Nugent. Why don't you get to the
point?"