Young Mr. Bemis: ‘Capital! capital!’
Bemis: ‘Excellent!’
Willis: ‘Go on, Roberts, do! or I shall die! Ah, ha, ha!’
Roberts, in a low voice of consternation to Willis: ‘Where was I? I can’t go on unless I know where I was.’
Willis, sotto voce to Roberts: ‘You weren’t anywhere! For Heaven’s sake, make a start!’
Roberts, to the others, convulsively: ‘Ha, ha, ha! I supposed all the time, you know, that I had been robbed, and—and—’
Willis: ‘Go on! go on!’
Roberts, whispering: ‘I can’t do it—’
Willis, whispering: ‘You’ve got to! You’re the beaver that clomb the tree. Laugh naturally, now!’
Roberts, with a staccato groan, which he tries to make pass for a laugh: ‘And then I ran after the man—’ He stops, and regards Mr. Bemis with a ghastly stare.