Edmund from red, had turned pale; he did not lift his eyes from the floor; he was feeling more ashamed of himself than he had ever thought to feel in his life. Poor blundering Oscar whom he had despised had conquered his horror of snakes to do a service to a boy who had never given him a pleasant word; while he—he had tried to steal Lady Margaret's pet! Now Oscar was avowing his carelessness without a thought of concealment, while he could not summon courage to tell the truth.
"It may be in the rooms somewhere," he managed to say finally; "and never mind, Oscar, you did your best to keep him."
"I'm awful sorry, I am, for a fact," said Oscar; "but of course it's my fault. You're good not to row me, Ned!"
"Don't!" said Edmund quickly.
"Why"—began Oscar; but his words were drowned by a tumult that suddenly arose outside; shrieks, voices, a great trampling of feet.
"They've found Marcus! They're killing him!" cried Oscar.
Both boys flew out of the room. "Don't kill him!" called Edmund.
"He is our snake!" shouted Oscar.
People opened doors in all directions as the boys raced past. One timid woman put her head out of her window, screaming, "Police!" until quite a small army of blue-coated fellows had assembled. Another of bolder stamp thought the hotel was on fire and rushed to the rescue with her water jug.
"Don't kill him!" Oscar and Edmund kept crying, a cry not calculated to reassure the nervous. Down the hall dashed the boys. At the far end an agitated group, variously armed with canes, brooms and umbrellas, was gathered about a fainting chambermaid supported in the arms of a waiter and fanned by another chambermaid with a brush broom. Just behind her stood the head waiter in his immaculate dress suit, disgust painted on his countenance and a dustpan held aloft in his hand.