“I’m going,” said Shultz suddenly. He removed from the doorknob his cap, which had been hanging there, and turned the key in the lock. As if he realized that something more was expected of him, he stopped and forced himself to turn until he could look back at them, though it was plainly with a great struggle that he did so. “Perhaps some of you fellows blame me,” he flung at them. “If you do, just try to put yourselves in my place. Just try to think of yourselves as holding four aces, getting them squarely and fairly, and then being called a cheat and a robber. Perhaps I wouldn’t have hit him if he hadn’t tried to choke me.”
“You’re sorry it happened, aren’t you, Charley?” said Osgood.
“I’m sorry—for your sake, anyhow; but I had to defend myself. Any other fellow would have done the same. Good night.”
“Go out quietly,” cautioned Ned, as Shultz was disappearing.
A few moments later they heard the departing fellow’s footsteps coming up from the sidewalk.
“I’ll let the rest of you out myself,” said the host. “Don’t talk as we go downstairs, and step quietly. Come on, Hooker.”
He took Roy’s arm, and, like guilty creatures, they stole out of the room and tiptoed down the stairs. It was necessary for Osgood to caution Hooker about descending in the dim light of the hall lamp. At the outer door Ned made them wait while he took a look into the street.
“Nobody in sight,” he announced in a low voice. “It’s a good time to get away, fellows. Good night.”
With muttered good nights they left the house and descended the steps, Springer having taken Hooker’s arm. The air was damp and raw, and Piper’s teeth chattered a little.
“Too bad our little pup-party busted up that way,” muttered Phil; “but we were lucky to gug-gug-get out without anybody getting wise. Osgood’s a fine chap, but if people knew about our playing in his rooms and this scrap to-night, they’d think him a regular pirate. Every old gossip in town would gug-gabble.”