"So can I," wheezed Chips, who was badly broken-winded. "And that's what we shall have to do, worse luck!"
"Why?" from Evan.
"How can we help it?"
"Nobody saw us go in or come out."
"Then do you mean to leave a dead man hanging till his head comes off?"
Chips had a graphic gift which was apt to lead him a bit too far. Devereux, looking worried, and speaking snappily, promptly told him not to be a beast.
"I didn't mean to be, but I should think myself one if I slunk out of a thing like this without a word to anybody."
"I don't see what business it is of ours."
"The man may have a wife and kids. They must be half-mad to know what's become of him."
"We can't help that. Besides"
Evan stopped. Jan was not putting in his word at all, but stolidly listening from his perch.
"Besides what, Devereux?"
"Oh, nothing."
"Of course we shall get into a row," Chips admitted, cruelly; "but I shouldn't call it a very rotten one, myself. It would be far rottener to try to avoid one now, and it might get us into a far worse row."
Evan snorted an incoherent disclaimer, to the general effect that the consequences were of course the very last consideration with him, at all events so far as his own skin went. He was quite ready to stand the racket, though he had been against the beastly haunted house from the first, and it was rather hard luck on him. But what he seemed to feel still more strongly was the hard luck on all their people, if the three of them had to give
