On the instant the man sprang out of bed and seized Crouch by the wrists. He was so little master of himself that hot tears were streaming down his cheeks. He was shaking in every limb. It was as if his neck was not strong enough to support his head, which swung round and round.
"Not that!" he screamed. "For pity's sake, not that!"
"Come," said Crouch; "the truth."
De Costa drew back. "I daren't," said he.
"Why?"
"Because he--would kill me."
"Look here, you have to choose between two men," said Crouch: "Cæsar and myself. Trust me, and I'll see you through. You told me you had heard of me before. You may have heard it said that I'm a man who sticks to his word through thick and thin, once it has been given."
As Crouch said this he noticed a remarkable change that came on a sudden upon de Costa's face. The man's complexion turned livid; his jaw dropped; his eyes were staring hard over Crouch's shoulder, in the direction of the door.
Crouch whipped round upon his heel, his revolver in his hand, and found that he stood face to face with Cæsar.
"By Christopher," said he, "you're mighty silent!"