"Let's not talk about it," said Pennington, who had been faint too.
"It's enough to have seen it. I am going to blot it out of my mind if I
can."

But not one of the three was ever able wholly to forget that hideous
dawn. Luckily the Winchesters themselves had suffered little, but they
were quite content to remain in their old place by the brook, where the
next day a large man in civilian dress introduced himself to Dick.

"Perhaps you don't remember me, Mr. Mason," he said, "but in such times
as these it's easy to forget chance acquaintances."

Dick looked at him closely. He was elderly, with heavy pouches under his
eyes and a rotund figure, but he looked uncommonly alert and his pale
blue eyes had a penetrating quality. Then Dick recalled him.

"You're Mr. Watson, the contractor," he said.

"Right. Shake hands."

Dick shook his hand, and he noticed that, while it was fat, it was strong
and dry. He hated damp hands, which always seemed to him to have a slimy
touch, as if their owner were reptilian.

"I suppose business is good with you, Mr. Watson," he said.

"It couldn't be better, and such affairs as the one I witnessed this
morning mean more. But doubtless I have grieved over it as much as you.
I may profit by the great struggle, but I have not wished either the