“Anybody—belonging—me—here?” he said, in a voice like a crow's, coughing as he spoke, the flame dancing over the pipe mouth.
“No, Pete, no,” said Grannie. “Who were you looking for, at all?”
“Nobody,” he answered. “Nobody partic'lar. Aw, no,” he said, and he puffed until his lips quacked, though the pipe gave out no smoke. “Just come in to get fire to my pipe. Must be going now. So long, boys! S'long! Bye-bye, Grannie!”
No one answered him. He nodded round the room again and smiled fearfully, crossed to the door with a jaunty roll, and thus launched out of the house with a pretence of unconcern, the dead pipe hanging upside down in his mouth, and his head aside, as if his hat had been tilted rakishly on his uncovered hair.
When he had gone the company looked into each other's faces in surprise and fear, as if a ghost in broad daylight had passed among them. Then Black Tom broke the silence.
“Men,” said he, “that was a d——— lie.”
“Si———” began Cæsar, but the protest foundered in his dry throat.
“Something going doing in Ramsey,” Black Tom continued. “I believe in my heart I'll follow him.”
“I'll be going along with you, Mr. Quilliam,” said Jonaique.
“And I,” said John the Clerk.