’"How interestin’!” says Lundie.  “I’ve noticed this impatient attitude toward their victim in a good many murderers.  I never understood it before.  Of course, it’s the disposal of the body that annoys ’em.  Now, I wonder,” he says, “who our case will come up before?  Let’s run through it again.”

‘Then Walen whirls in.  He’d been bitin’ his nails in a corner.  We was all nerved up by now....  Me?  The worst of the bunch.  I had to think for Tommy as well.

’"We can’t be tried,” says Walen.  “We mustn’t be tried!  It’ll make an infernal international stink.  What did I tell you in the smoking-room after lunch?  The tension’s at breaking-point already.  This ’ud snap it.  Can’t you see that?”

’"I was thinking of the legal aspect of the case,” says Lundie.  “With a good jury we’d likely be acquitted.”

’"Acquitted!” says Walen.  “Who’d dare acquit us in the face of what ’ud be demanded by—­the other party?  Did you ever hear of the War of Jenkins’ ear?  ’Ever hear of Mason and Slidel?  ’Ever hear of an ultimatum?  You know who these two idiots are; you know who we are—­a Lord of Appeal, a Viscount of the English peerage, and me—­me knowing all I know, which the men who know dam’ well know that I do know!  It’s our necks or Armageddon.  Which do you think this Government would choose?  We can’t be tried!” he says.

’"Then I expect I’ll have to resign me club,” Lundie goes on.  “I don’t think that’s ever been done before by an ex-officio member.  I must ask the secretary.”  I guess he was kinder bunkered for the minute, or maybe ‘twas the lordship comin’ out on him.

’"Rot!” says Mankeltow.  “Walen’s right.  We can’t afford to be tried.  We’ll have to bury them; but my head-gardener locks up all the tools at five o’clock.”

’"Not on your life!” says Lundie.  He was on deck again—­as the high-class lawyer.  “Right or wrong, if we attempt concealment of the bodies we’re done for.”

“’I’m glad of that,” says Mankeltow, “because, after all, it ain’t cricket to bury ’em.”

’Somehow—­but I know I ain’t English—­that consideration didn’t worry me as it ought.  An’ besides, I was thinkin’—­I had to—­an’ I’d begun to see a light ‘way off—­a little glimmerin’ light o’ salvation.

’"Then what are we to do?” says Walen.  “Zigler, what do you advise?  Your neck’s in it too.”

’"Gentlemen,” I says, “something Lord Lundie let fall a while back gives me an idea.  I move that this committee empowers Big Claus and Little Claus, who have elected to commit suicide in our midst, to leave the premises as they came.  I’m asking you to take big chances,” I says, “but they’re all we’ve got,” and then I broke for the bi-plane.