In the silence that followed Westerham laughed loud and long.
“Gentlemen,” he said at last, “I ask you if ever a man more completely condemned himself out of his own mouth?”
Now the tide of anger turned and swept towards Crow.
There was a great clamour, while the men, with curses, shouted at him for an explanation.
Then above the hubbub there came a loud knocking, and turning in the direction of the sound they saw Melun, smiling and pleasant-looking as ever, pounding on the floor with his stick, while the negro stood behind him, grinning over his shoulder.
Instantly silence fell again.
“Now, then,” called Melun, coolly, “be quiet, all of you. Be quiet at once. We have been betrayed, and the man who has betrayed us is there!”
For some seconds the men looked from Westerham to Melun, and then from Melun to Westerham. But the power of their old allegiance held good, and before he could utter a sound Westerham was seized and borne savagely to the floor.
When he found himself pinned to the ground Westerham made not the slightest attempt to struggle. He had been in similar predicaments before, and knew that a policy of passive resistance was best.