Mr. Burns glared spectrally, but otherwise was wonderfully composed.

“I always thought he would play us some deadly trick,” he said, with a peculiar emphasis on the he .

It gave me a mental shock, but I had neither the mind, nor the heart, nor the spirit to argue with him. My form of sickness was indifference. The creeping paralysis of a hopeless outlook. So I only gazed at him. Mr. Burns broke into further speech.

“Eh! What! No! You won’t believe it? Well, how do you account for this? How do you think it could have happened?”

“Happened?” I repeated dully. “Why, yes, how in the name of the infernal powers did this thing happen?”