Burgoyne held up his hands.
"Oh Lord! Oh Lord!" he exclaimed.
"It isn't all bad," Cameron remarked. "If we treat him half decent maybe sometime we can all borrow an extra wad at the Tuscarora."
"Touching that matter," laughed Devereux, "I have known such things to happen."
"But not touching Porshinger," Cameron observed. "The man who touches him will be a fencer indeed."
"He'll be a burglar!" Devereux retorted. "Why are you so quiet?" turning to Pendleton. "Why don't you say something?—join in, join in!"
"It's not up to me to say anything," Pendleton replied, as he sunk his fork into the asparagus salad.
"It's your funeral as much as anyone's!" Devereux exclaimed.
"Not at all—it is Miss Chamberlain's. She will have to bear the responsibility and the burden—and be nice to him in future. We are obligated to nothing except to be civil to him while we're at Criss-Cross. It is not worrying me in the least—moreover, I'm not in need of money."
"Now you have it, Devereux!" said Cameron. "Want any more?"