Salter rallied his courage and went blindly forward. “It doesn’t make any difference how I got off. The thing must end or I’ll not be responsible for the consequences.”
Marchmont laughed. “There won’t be any consequences. You aren’t mean enough to squeal.”
“I’ve advised him to give you warning, and when you go through again, lock you out,” said Wolcott, coming to the rescue. “He’s put up with it long enough.”
Marchmont turned coldly: “So you’re butting in again, are you? I don’t see that this concerns you in the slightest.”
“As Salter’s backer in case he needs my help it may concern me a good deal,” retorted Wolcott. “Shall we go now?”
Salter eagerly assented, and the pair retired with the honors of battle.
The next day Salter again appeared to consult his adviser.
“I’ve been thinking a lot about that hole. It ought to be closed up. He may keep out for a time, but I never shall feel safe as long as it’s there.”
“Get a carpenter to close it up,” Wolcott answered promptly.
“It would be all over town in a day. I’d like to do it on the quiet.”