All eyed him
anxiously.
"Don't say it, don't say it," McTavish cried in a tense voice.
"Yes, I ate it, plenty of it, a whole plateful!" Bertie cried
explosively, like a diver suddenly regaining breath.
The awful silence continued half a minute longer, and he read his fate
in their eyes.
"Maybe it wasn't poison after all," said Harriwell, dismally.
"Call in the cook," said Brown.
In came the cook, a grinning black boy, nose-spiked and ear-plugged.
"Here, you, Wi-wi, what name that?" Harriwell bellowed, pointing
accusingly at the omelet.
Wi-wi was very naturally frightened and embarrassed.
"Him good fella kai-kai," he murmured apologetically.
"Make him eat it," suggested McTavish. "That's a proper test."
Harriwell filled a spoon with the stuff and jumped for the cook, who
fled in panic.
"That settles it," was Brown's solemn pronouncement. "He won't eat it."
"Mr. Brown, will you please go and put the irons on him?" Harriwell
turned cheerfully to Bertie. "It's all right, old man, the
Commissioner will deal with him, and if you die, depend upon it, he
will be hanged."
"Don't think the government'll do it," objected McTavish.
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