reminiscences. I professed myself soothed at last, and suggested bed.
'In a second,' said he. 'Now, you wouldn't think, would you'—he glanced off the book toward my wildly swaying dressing-gown on the door—'that I've been seeing things for the last half-hour? 'Fact is, I'm just on the edge of 'em, skating on thin ice round the corner—nor'east as near as nothing—where that dog's looking at me.'
'What's the dog like?' I asked.
'Ah, that is comforting of you! Most men walk through 'em to show me they aren't real. As if I didn't know! But you're different. Anybody could see that with half an eye.' He stiffened and pointed. 'Damn it all! The dog sees it too with half an Why, he knows you! Knows you perfectly. D'you know him?'
'How can I tell if he isn't real?' I insisted.
'But you can! You're all right. I saw that from the first. Don't go back on me now or I shall go to pieces like the Drummond Castle. I beg your pardon, old man; but, you see, you do know the dog. I'll prove it. What's that dog doing? Come on! You know.' A tremor shook him, and he put his hand on my knee, and whispered with great meaning: 'I'll letter or halve it with you. There! You begin.'
'S,' said I to humour him, for a dog would most likely be standing or sitting, or may be scratching or sniffing or staring.
'Q,' he went on, and I could feel the heat of his shaking hand.
