"Queequeg," said I softly through the key-hole:--all silent.

"I say, Queequeg! why don't you speak?
It's I--Ishmael." But all remained still as before.

I began to grow alarmed.

I had allowed him such abundant time; I thought he might have had an apoplectic fit.

I looked through the key-hole; but the door opening into an odd corner of the room, the key-hole prospect was but a crooked and sinister one.