The Babe was
thinking of the parsonage, and his mother's knee, and all that. You
follow me--eh? Now then, I think it barely possible that instead of
our rescuing The Babe, he will rescue us. We got in late last night,
but our names were chronicled in the morning papers, for I saw them
there. If The Babe sees a paper he will go to our hotel, and----"
"If we're hanging by that thread to eternity, God help us," I replied
bitterly, for the grim humour of my brother's speech chilled my
marrow.
"It _is_ a slim chance, but--hang it--a slim chance is better
than none."
So we hugged that sorry comfort to our hearts and fell again into
silence.
* * * * *
I remember that the folly, the fatuity of what we had done, oppressed
me like an iron band around the skull. Common sense told me that the
man who had decoyed us into Chinatown would not be satisfied with
robbery. And what were the lives of two "white devils" to the owner of
this den? Suffered to escape, we might inform the police. The logical
conclusion of my reflections is not worth recording.
"When that scoundrel emptied the till into his pocket he made up his
mind there and then never to come back," said Ajax in my ear.
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