"Hallo, there!" came the echoing answer.
There was little life in their voices; they seemed to linger, as though they had not sufficient power to effectually pierce the thick air.
"Is that you, Applebee?"
"Yes, it's me. Is it Pond?"
"Yes."
"Your voice sounds strange. Come slow."
Each advancing with caution, a friendly grasp of hands presently united them.
CHAPTER VI.
[IT WAS GONE! THROUGH DEADMAN'S COURT.]
"What a night!" then exclaimed Constable Pond.