All that I have here condensed he said in a quiet manner, with his grave
dark regards divided between me and the fire. He threw in the word "Sir"
from time to time, and especially when he referred to his youth, as
though to request me to understand that he claimed to be nothing but
what I found him. He was several times interrupted by the little bell,
and had to read off messages, and send replies. Once he had to stand
without the door and display a flag as a train passed, and make some
verbal communication to the driver. In the discharge of his duties I
observed him to be remarkably exact and vigilant, breaking off his
discourse at a syllable, and remaining silent until what he had to do
was done.
In a word, I should have set this man down as one of the safest of men
to be employed in that capacity, but for the circumstance that while
he was speaking to me he twice broke off with a fallen color, turned
his face towards the little bell when it did NOT ring, opened the door
of the hut (which was kept shut to exclude the unhealthy damp), and
looked out towards the red light near the mouth of the tunnel.
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