“Didn’t you hear it?”
“When?”
“Just now.”
“No.”
“They say it foretells death. Hush!”
The two men sat motionless. Not a sound broke the silence, not even a creak of the old boards in the floor, or a sigh of the wind, or a flapping shutter.
“They say it foretells death. I heard it last night and the night before. What’s that?”
“Nothing. It’s stiller than a graveyard.”
“I heard it last night, and the night before about this time, near one. ’Taint a very pleasant sound, and this old garret’s dismal enough any way.”
“Monk, you’re afeard. It’s nothing. Don’t waste no more time. I’m dead-tired and sleepy. You wouldn’t have been in this old hole now if it hadn’t been for Peters.”