The man stepped forward for a few paces, followed by the two friends and their legal adviser. He stopped at a door.

“Is this the room?” murmured the little gentleman.

Sam nodded assent.

Old Wardle opened the door; and the whole three walked into the room just as Mr. Jingle, who had that moment returned, had produced the licence to the spinster aunt.

The spinster uttered a loud shriek, and throwing herself into a chair, covered her face with her hands. Mr. Jingle crumpled up the licence, and thrust it into his coat pocket. The unwelcome visitors advanced into the middle of the room.

“You⁠—you are a nice rascal, arn’t you?” exclaimed Wardle, breathless with passion.