“I thought you’d refuse at first,” he said. “There’s no hurry; think it over. You’ll consent in the end because”—he raised his voice, for Dick was already in the hall—“because it’s the only way you can make sure of success for the crew.”
Dick strode down the stairs without replying, and plunged into the darkness toward the academy, striding along as though shod in seven-league boots, in an unconscious effort to escape from the fury that possessed him. At the gate leading into the yard he paused breathlessly, looked about him, and laughed shortly.
“And I started out with the resolve to keep my temper!” he sighed.
As he reached the head of the stairs the sound of a voice, even-toned, monotonous, met his ears, and as he approached Number 16 he discovered that it issued from that study. He paused outside the door and listened; Trevor was apparently translating aloud:
“‘The hippopotamus is esteemed sacred in the Papremis district, but in no other part of Egypt. I shall describe its nature and properties. It has four feet, which are cloven—like the devil’s—or like an ox’s; the nose is short and tip-tilted—like Trevor Nesbitt’s—and the teeth are prominent—like Professor Sharp’s; it resembles a horse in its mane——’”
“Excellent, Nesbitt, excellent,” said a deep voice, for all the world like Professor Garrison’s. “Hence, gentlemen, we have the saying ‘Remember the Mane.’ Proceed, Nesbitt.”
“‘It resembles a horse in its mane, its tail, and its voice; it is of the size of a big ox, and has an epidermis—otherwise, and in vulgar parlance, a skin—so remarkably thick that when dry it becomes very offensive.’” The monotonous voice paused; apparently the rendering of the latter portion of the narrative was not quite satisfactory. But the second occupant of the study was evidently lenient, for the deep voice said:
“Proceed, Nesbitt; that is correct.”
“He’s reading Herodotus,” said Dick to himself. “But who in thunder is that with him?”