"'—Laid in one grave.
Sing tooralye,' etc."
"Wouldn't that be poetic justice? and ain't I a poet?"
"Undoubtedly. Then by miracle you come off scot-free."
"Not essential. I take my chances."
"Still, you have that hope; freedom is sweet. More-over, miracle of miracles, what you did it for is never guessed. But, my dear fellow, there are two who'd never need to guess. Like us they'd know and that knowledge would sunder them forever. They'd never willingly look into each other's faces again."
"Nnn-o. No, course they wouldn't. I seen that from the jump but I sort o' hoped you'd maybe know some way to get round that; it being the only real difficulty."
"Sorry, but I don't. Odd how narrow-minded one's friends can be, but when they are—what can we do?"
"Yes, that's so.... Mr. Gilmore, you're not narrow-minded; I've got a poem——"
It was there Hugh entered. But it was there, too, that Watson made a move in his modest part of the game.