“Everything—to myself,” replied Rowton. “I don’t choose to die. I—if you like the word, I will use it—I funked that part of my expedition.”
An incredulous and amazed look filled the eyes of every man in the room. Even Long John’s eyes leapt for a moment with an expression almost of compassion; then they fixed themselves in a stony stare on Rowton’s proud face.
“It is not like you, Silver, to be a coward,” he said then; “the word fits you badly. You were always our dare-devil; no danger was too hot for you. Why do you come back to us with the story of a sneak? I repeat, it is not like you.”
“I did not secure the bonds,” continued Rowton, speaking in a steady and absolutely quiet voice, “for the simple reason that, had I done so, my own life would have been the forfeit. I do not choose now to throw away my life.”
“And why now, if I may venture to ask the question of your mightiness?” snapped Piper.
“Because I have got a wife, and I do not intend her to become a widow.”
Something like a groan was heard throughout the room. It was more than evident that no one present sympathised with Rowton.
After a pause he said abruptly, rising as he spoke:
“You must get another man for that part of the business. I distinctly refuse to commit myself in the matter. My life is of moment to me.”
“Coward!” growled one or two.