“No,” said Steve. “That’s right. Guess I must have been busy.”
Keggs uttered a senile chuckle and drank more beer.
“They’re rum uns,” he went on. “I’ve been in some queer places, but this beats ’em all.”
“What do you mean?” inquired Steve, as a second chuckle escaped his companion.
“Why, it’s come to an ’ead, things has, Mr. Dingle. That’s what I mean. You won’t have forgotten all about the pampering of that child what I told you of quite recent. Well, it’s been and come to an ’ead.”
“Yes? Continue, colonel. This listens good.”
“You ain’t ’eard?”
“Not a word.”
Keggs smiled a happy smile and sipped his beer. It did the old man good, finding an entirely new audience like this.
“Why, Mr. Winfield ’as packed up and left.”