"Wrong? Nothing wrong! What do you mean?" retorted Devey, quite blushing at thus suddenly becoming the object of general attention.
"Thought you were trying to laugh. Never heard such a screech. Like a laughing hyena with the toothache. Don't do it again, there's a good chap. It'll get on our nerves."
"I haven't done anything, I tell you," exclaimed the indignant Devey. "I didn't laugh."
"It came from your corner. It must have been some of those youngsters of the Third eavesdropping outside. Chase 'em away a bit, Arbery."
Arbery, accompanied by Leveson, darted out with the object of giving the "youngsters of the Third" a bad time, but after searching around the shed, could find no sign of their presence.
"They must have scooted before we could get to them," reported Arbery on his return to the shed. "I can guess pretty well who it was—Plunger and his set."
Again that sound from Devey's corner which Hasluck had described as "a laughing hyena with the toothache"; and again all eyes went to Devey.
"Well, what the dickens are you staring at?" Devey indignantly demanded, when he thought that he had borne this scrutiny with enough patience.
"Beetles are bad enough, Devey, without paroquets," remarked Hasluck reproachfully. "If you feel bad, you'd better go out. We'll excuse you."
"It's not me, I tell you. I didn't laugh. It came from outside, or the roof, or—or somewhere," protested Devey.