"Why, dash it, I saw you strike the beast, right where you're holding that club."
"Mr. Lightnut, sir"—Jenkins spoke a little huskily and glanced around at me queerly—"will you look under the end of this stick and see if you see what I see?"
I climbed down and examined cautiously.
"Why, by Jove, it's the little spider!" I exclaimed, surprised.
"Exactly, sir; what's left." Jenkins took a deep breath.
"Thank you, sir—it's a great relief," he sighed.
"Eh?"
"I mean, sir, I'm glad I ain't the only one who thought he saw that other. It's some comfort."
Jenkins spoke gloomily.
"Thought you saw?" I repeated.