“For Heaven’s sake, speak, some of you!” Seymour cried at last, after a long interval, during which no word had been spoken, “this silence is enough to drive one mad!”
“Of what should we speak, my friend?” the scientist asked gravely. “The while our fate is trembling in the balance, our lives hanging, as it were, upon a thread, there seems but little attraction in conversation, however interesting in the ordinary course of events the subject may be.”
“I hold there’s no call to despair yet awhile,” Silas interrupted sharply; “the old Seal’s a stayer, an’ so long as she keeps her end up, we’ll pull through.”
“Good old Silas!” Seymour cried, clapping his friend on the back.
“Wal, it’s this way,” Haverly went on, “I’ve come out of so many tight corners with a whole skin, that one more or less makes no difference. You Britishers pride yourselves on your ‘never say die’ motto. I guess this is a suitable time to apply the same. Say, William, you recollect that little bit of a scrap on the Amazon, six years back?”
“Rather,” Seymour returned.
“Wal, I reckon as that was considerable tighter than the present situation. You see, professor, it——”
He broke off abruptly, as from somewhere far ahead came a murmuring drone, like the first low note of some giant organ.
“What is it?” Mervyn asked.
The millionaire flung open the door.