on Puffin. When he came out it would have been quite unfair to have described him as drunk. He was no more than gay and ready to go to bed. Now he became portentously solemn, as the cold mist began to do its deadly work.
“A letter,” he said impressively, “without an address is an uncommonly dangerous thing. Hic! Can’t tell into whose hands it may fall. I would sooner go ’bout with a loaded pistol than with a letter without any address. Send it to the bank for safety. Send for the police. Follow my advice and send for the p’lice. Police!”
Miss Mapp’s penetrating mind instantly perceived that that dreadful Captain Puffin was drunk, and she promised herself that Tilling should ring with the tale of his excesses to-morrow. But Major Benjy, whom, if she mistook not, Captain Puffin had been trying, with perhaps some small success, to lead astray, was a gallant gentleman still, and she conceived the brilliant but madly mistaken idea of throwing herself on his protection.
“Major Benjy,” she said, “I will ask you to take me home. Captain Puffin has had too much to drink—”
“Woz that?” asked Captain Puffin, with an air of great interest.
Miss Mapp abandoned dignity and pleasantness, and lost her temper.
“I said you were drunk,” she said with great distinctness. “Major Benjy, will you—”
Captain Puffin came carefully down the two steps from the door on to the pavement.
“Look here,” he said, “this all needs ’splanation. You say I’m drunk, do you? Well, I say you’re drunk, going out like this in mill’ of the night to post letter with no ’dress on it. Shamed of yourself, mill’aged woman going
