hammering punctuated the music.

I knocked, and the hammering ceased. The rest of the din ceased not,
nor abated. In about a minute the green door opened--a cautious inch
or two at first, then wide enough to reveal Captain Coffin. He wore
a dirty white jumper over his upper garments, and held a formidable
mallet. I observed that either his face was unnaturally white or the
rims of his eyes were unnaturally red, and that sawdust besprinkled
his hair and collar. I recalled the tavern sawdust which had
bepowdered his hat on the night of our first meeting, and jumped to a
wrong conclusion.

"Eh? It's Brooks--the boy Brooks! Glad to see you, Brooks!
Come inside."

"Thank you, sir," said I, feeling a strong impulse to bolt as he
shook me by the hand, so hot was his and so dry, and so feverishly
it gripped me.

"You're sure no one tracked ye here?" he asked, as he closed the door
behind us.

"There was a barber, sir, at the head of the passage. I stopped to
ask him the way."

"_He's_ all right, or would be but for that cursed bird of his.
How a man can keep such a bird--" Captain Coffin broke off.
"I had a two-three nails in my mouth when you knocked. Nearly made
me swallow 'em, you did. They was copper nails, too."