Outside the canvas building stood Chaytor's three mates, wide awake, with their heads close together, as they had been inside on the return of Basil and Chaytor from the stable. They were conversing in whispers.
"Did he hear you?"
"No. If he had moved I would have knocked him on the head."
"Have you got it?"
"Yes, it is all right."
"Pass it round."
"No; I will keep it till it's sold; then we'll divide equally."
"What do you think it's worth?"
"Twenty pounds, I should say."
"Little enough."