Good night." Fitzgerald finished his cigar, and went to bed also.

"Interesting old place," wadding a pillow under his ear.

"More interesting to-morrow." Some time earlier, the individual who was the cause of this nocturnal exploit hurried down the hill, nursing a pair of skinned palms, and laughing gently to himself.
"Checkmate! I shall try the other way." On the morrow, Fitzgerald recounted the adventure in a semi-humorous fashion, making a brisk melodrama out of it, to the quiet amusement of his small audience.
"I shall send for the mason this morning," said the admiral.

"I've been dreaming of _The Black Cat_ and all sorts of horrible things.

I hate like sixty to spoil the old chimney, but we can't have this going on.