4. "So I think," replied Kneebone, again applying to the snuff-box, and by that means escaping the angry glance levelled at him by his companion. “I’d have to sneak out after everyone was asleep. Please tell me what your terms are. Wild had escaped. I did not reckon upon—him. . ’ He gave the gaping Pottiswick a shove, passing him on to his junior, who was waiting patiently by the kitchen door. Some one had once, in his hearing, called him a prig. No sooner had they entered the room than Sharples, who waited to usher them in, hastily retreated, closed the door, and turning the key, laughed loudly at the success of his stratagem.
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