ties
which beset the path of the untruthful.

The very next visit introduced a fresh complication, it being evident to
the most indifferent spectator that Mr. Stiles and the widow were getting
on very friendly terms. Glances of unmistakable tenderness passed
between them, and on the occasion of the third visit Mr. Burton sat an
amazed and scandalised spectator of a flirtation of the most pronounced
description. A despairing attempt on his part to lead the conversation
into safer and, to his mind, more becoming channels only increased his
discomfiture. Neither of them took any notice of it, and a minute later
Mr. Stiles called the widow a "saucy little baggage," and said that she
reminded him of the Duchess of Marford.

[Illustration: "'Mr. Stiles called the widow a 'saucy little baggage.'"]

"I used to think she was the most charming woman in England," he said,
meaningly.

Mrs. Dutton simpered and looked down; Mr. Stiles moved his chair a little
closer to her, and then glanced thoughtfully at his friend.

"Burton," he said.

"Sir," snapped the other.

"Run back and fetch my pipe for me," said Mr. Stiles. "I left it on the
mantelpiece."

Mr. Burton hesitated, and, the widow happening to look away, shook his
fist at his superior officer.

"Look sharp," said Mr. Stiles, in a peremptory voice.

"I'm very sorry, sir," said Mr. Burton, whose wits were being sharpened
by misfortune, "but I broke it."

"Broke it?" repeated the other.

"Yes, sir," said Mr. Burton. "I knocked it on the floor and trod on it
by accident; smashed it to powder."

Mr. Stiles rated him roundly for his carelessness, and asked him whether
he knew that it was a present from the Italian Ambassador.

"Burton was always a clumsy man," he said, turning to the widow. "He had
the name for it when he was on the _Destruction_ with me; 'Bungling
Burton' they called him."

He divided the rest of the evening between flirting and recounting
various anecdotes of Mr. Burton, none of which were at all flattering
either to his intelligence or to his sobriety, and the victim, after one
or two futile attempts at contradiction, sat in helpless wrath as he saw
the infatuation of the widow. They were barely clear of the house before
his pent-up emotions fell in an avalanche of words on the faithless Mr.
Stiles.

"I can't help being good-looking," said the latter, with a smirk.

"Your good looks wouldn't hurt anybody," said Mr. Burton, in a gratin