“It's no good,” said Meagle seriously; “there's something wrong about that sleep.”
“That's what I meant,” said Lester; “and if he goes to sleep like that, why shouldn't——”
Meagle sprang to his feet. “Nonsense,” he said roughly. “He's tired out; that's all. Still, let's take him up and clear out. You take his legs and Barnes will lead the way with the candle. Yes? Who's that?”
He looked up quickly towards the door. “Thought I heard somebody tap,” he said with a shamefaced laugh. “Now, Lester, up with him. One, two— Lester! Lester!”
He sprang forward too late; Lester, with his face buried in his arms, had rolled over on the floor fast asleep, and his utmost efforts failed to awaken him.
“He—is—asleep,” he stammered. “Asleep!”
Barnes, who had taken the candle from the mantel-piece, stood peering at the sleepers in silence and dropping tallow over the floor.
“We must get out of this,” said Meagle. “Quick!” Barnes hesitated. “We can't leave them here—” he began.