“Some of them may be, but certainly not all,” was the reply. “That would be the greatest coincidence of the lot!”
“I hardly like to tell you why I ask,” said Mr. Upton, much agitated; for he could be as emotional as most irascible men.
“You’ve been dreaming about the boy?”
“Not I; but my poor wife has; that was one reason why I daren’t tell her he had disappeared.”
“Why? What was the dream?”
“That she saw him—and heard a shot.”
“A shot!”
Thrush looked as though he had heard one himself, but only until he had time to think.
“She says she did hear one,” added Mr. Upton, “and that she wasn’t dreaming at all.”
“But when was this?”