'Ay, we know; but we all are of the League.'
'None were excepted; "not to a soul," he said.'
'He, speaking for the League, meant to not a soul beside.'
'I mean to the League no less. So I think did he.'
A poor satisfaction was in standing to his word against those who compelled him to an oath.
'Crack-brained devil——'
'Lower!' Christian said, glancing anxiously up at the window.
'This is no case for foolery or brag. Out of you we must have the whole truth, lief or loath.'
His stubborn face said no. To no man on earth could he tell the whole truth, nor, were that possible, would it be believed; less than the whole doomsday truth could scarce make his own outrageous act comprehensible.
'Philip may tell you, but not I,' he said witlessly. And as he spoke and looked at these four, it came upon him that he might not long outlive Philip's telling of the tale, if only by reason of that lurking thing uncertainly seen. He clapped his hand upon the hidden cross, as a perilous flash told how less cause had set down a record that might not bear the light. So close was he ever to the mouth of hell.