“Oh, I dunno, sir; I was a-thinking about our taking they wittles in the s’loon, and it’s come back like sort o’ bells ringing in my ear, and Mr Denning saying she’s dying. Oh yes, I recklect that, and the doctor coming. That’s ’bout as far as I can get.”
“I ’member the wittles on the binnacle quite plain now,” said Barney; “and, yes, o’ course, I kep’ coming over all soft like, and wantin’ to sing songs, and listen to moosic, and couldn’t sing; but it was all silver and gold and sunshine and beautiful birds in beautiful trees. Yes, it’s all right, sir. You see now, don’t you, Neb?”
“No, I can’t see nowt; but I dessay it’s all right. I don’t want to know; it don’t matter to me.”
“Hush!” I whispered. “There’s that knocking again.”
There it was quite plainly, and then came a repetition seemingly close at hand,—three smart taps as of knuckles on a chest.
“There’s some one else, and quite near,” I said in a low voice.
“No, my lad, that was me. Here’s a big case behind me, and I let go on it.”
There were three more taps at a distance.
“Knock again,” I said, and this time Bob struck twice.
A few moments later there were distinctly heard two knocks.