"In the middle of the night," the man said to the landlady over a soft-boiled egg and a slice of toast. "Right under my window." He leaned forward. "You know how children talk to themselves?" "Was it the same voice you heard the first two nights?" Mrs. Tilton asked. "I'm not sure now about the first night. Might have been another voice that first night." "And now it was a child?" "Yes." Mrs. Tilton rose to get the coffee. "Are you quite sure?" "You don't think I'm imagining?" "We have no childre