‘You swear it?’
‘I swear it. But you don’t want an oath from an old friend like me, I should think.’
‘I will do it,’ said Egerton eagerly. ‘Come—come at once. Not a word to Birnie—not a word to any living soul. Come!’
Egerton went out first into the hall. Marston followed, quietly slipping the evening paper into his pocket as he went out. The servant was in the hall.
‘Tell the doctor I’m gone out with my friend,’ said Egerton to the servant; ‘and don’t sit up for me. I’ll let myself in with the key.’
The two men went out, and the servant closed the door after them.
‘What’s up, I wonder?’ said that worthy to himself. ‘Here’s a gent, as don’t give a name, comes in as white as a ghost, and Mister Egerton comes in afterwards as jolly as a sandboy, and presently they goes out, and then it’s the gent as looks as jolly as a sandboy, and Mister Egerton as is as white as a ghost. It’s rum—very rum!’
With which criticism on passing events, the aforesaid observer of countenances went downstairs to the kitchen to finish his disturbed supper and enjoy a quiet half-hour over Bell’s Life before retiring for the night.
CHAPTER LXII.
A MESSAGE FROM THE SEA.
It was one o’clock in the morning when Egerton and Marston reached Heckett’s house.