"Oh! listen! listen!"
"Listen at what? You are dreaming!"
"Dreaming, am I? Oh! wait! Listen——"
Urr-rr-rr-r-r-r-r—"Ha!—ha!—ha!"
It was, as plainly as I ever heard, the sound of the rolling of a ball, followed by a peal of demoniac laughter.
I turned on Mrs. Hawkins an appalled look.
She was surprised, but self-possessed, and evidently bent on calmly listening and investigating. She sat straight up in bed with a strong, concentrated attention to the sounds. They came again:
Urr-rr-rr-r-r-r-r-e—rattle-te-bang!—"A ten-strike at last!—O's a dead shot!"
"A dead shot."
"A dead shot," was echoed all around.