No answer; only, if possible, the look became more analytic than before.
"What's on your mind?" repeated Craig. "You make me nervous staring that way. Speak up if you've got anything to say. Don't you like my selling and putting you out of a job?"
"No, it's not that," refuted the Hibernian. "There are plenty of other places I can get. I could stay right here for that matter if I wanted to—but I don't. I wouldn't live in this house any longer if my pay were doubled." As he spoke he had looked away. Now of a sudden his glance returned. "I meant to quit anyway, whether you sold or not."
"Why so?" queried Craig, and unconsciously the scowl was repeated. "You seemed glad enough to come."
"I was—then," shortly.
"And why not now? Talk up, if you've any grievance. Don't sit there like a chimpanzee, hugging it."
"You know why well enough," ignored the other. He passed a knotty hand through his shock of red whiskers absently. "I've expected the devil or worse here every night these last weeks."
Craig tried to laugh; but the effort resulted in failure.
"God," he satirised, "who'd ever imagined you were the superstitious sort! Weren't you ever in a place where anyone died before?"
"I never was where a woman and her child were murdered," deliberately.