"No, sir—it's——"
"It's what?"
"Nothing, sir—only——"
"Don't be silly—— Tell me."
She told me, and for a moment, so odd was her statement, I thought she must have gone out of her mind.
"The window of my room," she said, "is just over one of the windows of yours."
I didn't know what to say. I really thought she must be slightly deranged. I said lamely: "Which window?"
"The one by your bed, the one you always leave open so's the air can get to you."
"Well, Hilda, what about it?"
"Sometimes I hear you talking in your sleep, and then I lean out of my window and listen."