“But I say that’s dreadful, if she was so beautiful.”
“Yes, it’s bad, but there are worse things than that. I wonder what she meant by that wild cry of ‘Tear it open! See if her heart is there?’ Tear what open? the coffin?”
“Of course. What else could she have meant?”
“Well! delirium is a queer thing; makes a fellow feel creepy all over. I don’t reckon on my nights here.”
“Hexford, help me to a peep. I’ve got a difficult job before me and I need all the aid I can get.”
“Oh, there’s no trouble about that! Walk boldly along; he won’t notice—”
“He won’t notice?”
“No, he notices nothing but what comes from the sick room.”
“I see.” Sweetwater’s jaw had fallen, but it righted itself at this last word.
“Listening, eh?”