“Good night,” came the friendly call in reply, before the door closed.
“Basil,” said Rupert Grant, in a hoarse whisper, “what are we to do?”
The elder brother looked thoughtfully from one of us to the other.
“What is to be done, Basil?” I repeated in uncontrollable excitement.
“I'm not sure,” said Basil doubtfully. “What do you say to getting some dinner somewhere and going to the Court Theatre tonight? I tried to get those fellows to come, but they couldn't.”
We stared blankly.
“Go to the Court Theatre?” repeated Rupert. “What would be the good of that?”
“Good? What do you mean?” answered Basil, staring also. “Have you turned Puritan or Passive Resister, or something? For fun, of course.”
“But, great God in Heaven! What are we going to do, I mean!” cried Rupert. “What about the poor woman locked up in that house? Shall I go for the police?”
Basil's face cleared with immediate comprehension, and he laughed.