“'Good avenin', Mother Machree,' says Oi, touchin' me hat.
“'Mother Machree!' says she, an' gives me a sharp look. Also she sniffs. 'Ye poor man,' says she. 'Ye'll catch yer death o' cold, out here. Ye better coom in an' lie on me sofy.'
“Now, sor, how was Oi to ken, bein' a sailor an' ingorant? She was only a ould lady, an' withered. How was Oi to ken thot she was th' ould Witch o' Endor?”
Watson's memory was at work on what he knew of the house at Chatterton Place, especially regarding its occupants at the beginning of the Blind Spot mystery. The Bar's old remark caught his attention.
“The Witch of Endor?”
“Aye; thot she were. Whin Oi woke up, there was nary a hoose at all, nor th' ould lady, nor Toddy Maloney's, nor 'Frisco. 'Twas a strange place I was, sor; a church loike St. Peter's, only bigger, th' same bein' harrd to belaive. An' th' columns looked loike waterspoots, an' th' sky above was full av clouds, the same bein' jest aboot ready to break into hell an' tempest. But ye've been there yerself, sor.
“Well, here was a man beside me, dressed in a kilt. An' he spakes a strange language, although Oi could undershtand; and' he says, says he:
“'My lord,' was what he says.
“'My lord!' says Oi. 'Oi dinna ken what ye mane at all, at all.'
“'Are ye not a Bar?' says he.