"We."
And in this plural pronoun, uttered simultaneously by the two associates in a single voice, might be heard a flood of irony and reproaches.
J.T. Maston pressed his iron hook on his forehead. Then, with a voice which seemed to stick in his throat, he said:
"Did your shaft at Kilimanjaro really have a diameter of twenty-seven metres?"
"Yes, sir."
"Did your projectile really weigh 180,000,000 of kilograms?"
"Yes."
"And was the shooting really done with 2,000 pounds of melimelonite?"
"Yes."
This thrice-repeated "yes" fell on J. T. Maston like masses of stone on his head.