“Yes, grim death, lad.”
“Then, we’ve got it, too.”
“No—all right. The fool! Smell that glass.”
He took up and held the tumbler to his nose, and then passed it to his companion, who smelt it, and put it down with a shudder.
“Come on,” he panted; “let’s get away.”
“Without the diamonds—now?”
“I’m no use,” groaned the younger man.
“Hold up, curse you! It’s fortune of war. One man down. Prize-money to divide between two instead of three.”
“Hah!” ejaculated the other, upon whom his comrade’s words acted like magic. “I’m all sight, now. Quick! let’s have ’em!”
The elder man had already thrust his hand into Mark’s breast.