"No," declared Rawlings eagerly, for he was listening.
"Certainly not," ventured Trendall.
"Depends," said Susanne. "Go on."
"And no one knows as Mister Rawlings and Mr. Trendall were on that car. Yer see, it's only them as you've got to think of. It ain't known as they was there. My car don't come into the question. So I says, just 'ere we 'ops it and says nothing."
"Quite so. Hear, hear!" cried Rawlings, plucking up a vestige of courage.
"And supposing we're asked," demanded Masters, looking Rawlings coolly up and down till that immaculate young fellow felt intensely uncomfortable. "Eh?"
"We know nothing," said Rawlings and Higgins together.
"Nothing whatever," declared the latter with emphasis. "Not a word. We wasn't out on the car. We wasn't at the meeting. We don't know nuffin' about the death of that poor cove."
"And why should we?" chimed in Trendall. "We're not responsible. It isn't as if he had been murdered. The car overturned, and Rawlings and I were jolly lucky. The police won't need any explanation. There! That satisfies you, eh?"
Clive Darrell went a dull red as he listened to this conversation. He had forgotten for the moment the fact that Old B. had seen the car at the meeting, and that he alone could put the police on the right track if information were needed. To Clive it did not seem that there was any other action than a straight one. For supposing some other driver of a motor-car were accused of having caused this fatal accident? It was quite possible. Then the position would be dreadful. And in any case, though he was ready for a lark at any time, and would doubtless break bounds on many another occasion, still he wasn't going to lie to save his own skin or that of Higgins, Trendall, or Rawlings.