“No; I thought you did. I’ve heard a good deal about ghosts, though. There used to be a ghost of a woman up at Mackenzie’s Crossing. She used to stand just by the fence goin’ down to the punt. I heard the old man and Jock Mackenzie talking about it. Lots o’ people seen her. Jock Mackenzie he seen her ’imself one night comin’ home from the pub, an’ he swore off the liquor, an’ never teched a drop; an’ twelve months to the day he seen the woman’s ghost he died.”
Dave shuddered.
“That woman must a’ been murdered,” he said.
“Yes,” replied Tom, “I never heard of a ghost that hadn’t been murdered. They never ketched the man that did it yet, but he will be ketched, because murder’s got to come out.”
“I say,” queried Dave, presently, “suppose these coves that’s goin’ down the river to-night murders somebody?”
“Well, suppose they do?” repeated Tom.
“It ’ud be awful wouldn’t it?”
“Yes,” said Tom, “it would; but it ’ud be a throw-in for us.”
“I don’t see how it would.”
“No, you don’t, because you got no sense, but I do. I reckon there’d be a big reward, and we’d git the money.”