"Don't you think your language is a trifle--er--overstrong, Wynne?" he
said, in that quiet voice of his which made all men listen and wonder why
they did it.
Wynne tossed his shoulders. His thick neck was rather red.
"No, I'm damned if I do! You're men here--or supposed to be--not a pack
of weak-kneed women!... Afraid to go out and see what those lights are,
are you? Well, I'm not. Look here. I'll have a bet with you boys. Fifty
pounds that I get back safely, and dispel the morbid fancies from your
kindergarten brains by tellin' you that the things are glow-worms, or
some fool out for a practical joke on the neighbourhood--which has fallen
for it like this sort of one-horse hole-in-the-corner place would! Fifty
pounds? What say you?"
He glowered round upon each of them in turn, his sneering lips showing
the pointed dogs' teeth behind them, his whole arrogant personality
brutally awake. "Who'll take it on? You Merriton? Fifty pounds, man,
that I don't get back safely and report to you chaps at twelve o'clock
to-night.
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