“Hold on there! When do I eat?”
“I don’t know. You see, if we opened the door to give you anything you might try to get out!”
“You think so, do you?” asked Harmon grimly. “Well, you’ve got more sense than I thought you had! How long does supper run?”
“Until seven. It’s ten minutes past six now.”
“Listen, Porter—”
“Proctor’s my name, old chap.”
“Proctor, then. Look here, now. If you’ll open that door and let me out I’ll keep quiet about this. You can tell the others that—that I asked to see that catalogue and that you went to hand it in and I knocked you down.”
“Yes, and they’d believe it, wouldn’t they?” asked Martin scornfully. “Think of something better, please! Besides, I’m just as much interested in saving you from your career of crime as they are, Harmon. Why, I’d never forgive myself if I left one turn unstoned! We’re trying to save you from yourself, old chap!”
“You’d much better be thinking about saving yourselves,” answered Harmon, laughing.
“Did you laugh then?” called Martin eagerly.