‘He said somebody hit him, didn’t he?’
‘Shore he did. Alibi for failin’ off.’
‘I never thought of that,’ laughed Red. ‘By golly, and I thought it was a mystery.’
‘It’s like the usual mystery,’ smiled Hashknife.
‘Do you like mishteries?’ asked Napoleon Bonaparte Briggs, who was not carrying his liquor so well.
‘I don’t,’ replied Hashknife.
‘Shame here. I like romansh. Didja ever read “Lef’ at the Altar”? Great book. You don’t happen to know where I c’n fin’ the rest of it, do yuh?’
‘The rest of the book?’
‘Shertinly. Mine’s been docked. Right on the las’ line it says, “Lord Mort’mer flung the heavy draperies ashide with the point of his sh-sh-shword, and there stood——” And that’s the end of it.[’]
‘I’ve ’magined my own endin’ for the shtory, but it ain’t so good. But she’s a dinger up to where she skips off into space.’