Probaby Something on the Roof.
ment when Jones knocked at the door to obtain
a match, we all three of us heard, loud and
distinct, a noise as of a smashing of glass.
My first momentary thought was that my lamp
had cracked by the heat, the second and most
prominent that somebody from the street or over
the way had thrown a stone through the window.
Under this impression I got up and examined
it. It was in its usual condition. Nothing of
glass had fallen in the room that we could dis-
cover, I searched, both this evening and on the
following morning. We were all puzzled, having
heard the noise unmistakeably; Boweryem and
I compared notes subsequently and found our
impressions precisely similar. A noise as though
a tumbler had been dashed against a wall
and broken to pieces. Now for the corol-
lary. My mother once told me that my father
had a superstition, of which he didn�t like
to talk. It was that such a noise as we heard
indicated death. She, the least superstitious
of women, told me she had heard such a
noise, with such a sequence, when in my father�s
company, I think as they were entering the
village of Chacombe, possibly before I was born.
She narrated it privately to me, perhaps
fifteen years ago, as an odd thing only, sup-