“Nor will I,” said Rupert, glaring at it and biting his fingers. “There's some black work going on there. If I left it I should never sleep again.”
Basil Grant looked at us both seriously.
“Of course if you feel like that,” he said, “we'll investigate further. You'll find it's all right, though. They're only two young Oxford fellows. Extremely nice, too, though rather infected with this pseudo-Darwinian business. Ethics of evolution and all that.”
“I think,” said Rupert darkly, ringing the bell, “that we shall enlighten you further about their ethics.”
“And may I ask,” said Basil gloomily, “what it is that you propose to do?”
“I propose, first of all,” said Rupert, “to get into this house; secondly, to have a look at these nice young Oxford men; thirdly, to knock them down, bind them, gag them, and search the house.”
Basil stared indignantly for a few minutes. Then he was shaken for an instant with one of his sudden laughs.
“Poor little boys,” he said. “But it almost serves them right for holding such silly views, after all,” and he quaked again with amusement “there's something confoundedly Darwinian about it.”
“I suppose you mean to help us?” said Rupert.
“Oh, yes, I'll be in it,” answered Basil, “if it's only to prevent your doing the poor chaps any harm.”