"Seemed such a monkey trick for 'im to do," complained Mr. Carter, to the
listening circle at the Peal o' Bells. "'I'm a-looking at you, Joe,' he
ses, and he waggled his 'ead as if it was made of india-rubber."
"He'd got something on 'is mind what he wanted to tell you," said a
listener, severely; "you ought to 'ave stopped, Joe, and asked 'im what
it was."
"I think I see myself," said the shivering Mr. Carter. "I think I see
myself."
"Then he wouldn't 'ave troubled you any more," said the other.
Mr. Carter turned pale and eyed him fixedly. "P'r'aps it was only a
death-warning," said another man.
"What d'ye mean, 'only a death-warning'?" demanded the unfortunate Mr.
Carter; "you don't know what you're talking about."
"I 'ad an uncle o' mine see a ghost once," said a third man, anxious to
relieve the tension.
"And what 'appened?" inquired the first speaker. "I'll tell you after
Joe's gone," said the other, with rare consideration.
Mr. Carter called for some more beer and told the barmaid to put a little
gin in it. In a pitiable state of "nerves" he sat at the extreme end of
a bench, and felt that he was an object of unwholesome interest to his
acquaintances.
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