Those people who were back in the tunnel would not understand that if they were in a trap his return could do no good to them. They would think that he had deliberately planned to make them scapegoats. There was the risk, too, that their loyalty--always a frail thing--would not stand the strain of his leaving them. They would talk. And if they began talking to the police, Larry knew that his escape would have to be made good, for the evidence that would be accumulated against him would be overwhelming. He shrugged his shoulders in contempt at his own lack of decision. What did it matter? There was enough against him as it was. Nothing that they could say or do could make any difference. Why should he worry? In cases like this it was each man for himself and the devil take the hindmost. He rose cautiously to his feet. "Come along, Billy. We'll take the chance." CHAPTER XXVI In the underground chamber where the little group awaited the return of Larry time passed slowly. Labar could hear the ticking of his watch above the whispered conversation that passed among the others. He was not of a morbid cast of mind but he could not help reflecting on the possibility that his life hung upon a hair. Once finally convinced that they were cornered the views of the more desperate of the gang that he was better out of the way were likely to prevail. He had to face that probability, and he liked it the less the more that he thought of it. He considered the situation from another angle. It was just on the cards that the tunnel might remain undiscovered by the men who were following him. In that case his dilemma would be worse. His captors were scarcely likely to leave him alive to take up the trail after them once more. Men of the habit of thought of Billy Bungey would be liable to take a simple method of ridding themselves of an embarrassment. Larry, the most dangerous of them all, would not lift a finger to stay his sacrifice unless policy dictated that he should remain alive. There would be little to hope for from that direction. If he was to get clear of the predicament into which he had fallen his own wit must save him. No one now remained near him. The man who had hitherto been at his elbow had moved over to the group to take part in the conversation. It was a reasonable assumption that the detective, tied as he was, and with all egress from the tunnel barred, could do no harm. Labar himself realised his impotence, and with no conscious thought in his mind moved quietly a pace or two so that he might place his back against the wall. There he remained in the blackest of the shadows cast by the feeble oil lamp.