And here Harcourt said he thought he'd leave Bob. So Bob went up about six dark steps by himself, and then he stopped.
"Whoever he is, he's making a devil of a row," said Bob, pausing, "a devil of a row. I wonder if it is Bunting. I think Harcourt might have stayed. But he never did like fighting or rows."
He climbed up another step or two, and heard a mighty uproar.
"I think they must be having a boxing party," said Bob. And then he heard a door open on the landing above him.
"Confound you, sir! to the devil with you, sir!" said a voice that he certainly did not recognize. Then he heard a noise which was presently explained by the fact that Carteret Williams fell down the stairs, turning a crooked corner most wonderfully in company with a very large Liddell and Scott's Dictionary of that beautiful language, Greek.
"Oh, is that you, Mr. Williams?" asked Bob.
Williams appeared rather confused.
"Yes, Bob," he said, as he hugged the dictionary. "I—I think so."
"Why have you fallen down-stairs?" asked Bob.
"That damn groom threw me down," said Williams. "At least, he threw this book at me, and I came down."