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第11章（第2页）

the ghostly face would rise, and he would accost it again.

“Buried how long?”

“Almost eighteen years.”

“I hope you care to live?”

“I can’t say.”

Digdigdiguntil an impatient movement from one of the

two passengers would admonish him to pull up the window, draw

his arm securely through the leathern strap, and speculate upon

the two slumbering forms, until his mind lost its hold of them, and

they again slid away into the bank and the grave.

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“Buried how long?”

“Almost eighteen years.”

“You had abandoned all hope of being dug out?”

“Long ago.”

The words were still in his hearing as just spokendistinctly in

his hearing as ever spoken words had been in his lifewhen the

weary passenger started to the consciousness of daylight, and