"You're not worrying?" said Stover suddenly.
McCarthy put down the penitential book, and, rising, stretched himself, nervously resorting to his pipe.
"Not for a hold-off—no. That ought to be all right."
"And afterward?"
"Don't speak about it."
"Rats! You'll be pledged about the eighth or tenth."
"What time is it?" said McCarthy shortly.
"Five minutes more."
This time each took up his book in order to be found in an inconsequential attitude, outwardly indifferent, as all Anglo-Saxons should be. From without, the hour rang its dull, leaden, measured tones. Almost immediately a knock sounded on the door, and Le Baron appeared, hurried, businesslike, mysterious, saying:
"Stover, want to see you in the other room a moment."