Frank slipped into a seat in a corner, and looked around for the man he had shadowed.
The fellow was not far away, and he was talking in a low tone to a man who was sitting beside him.
After a few moments, Frank obtained a fair look at this man’s face.
He came near uttering a great shout of astonishment.
The face was familiar to him, but it seemed that it must be the face of a dead man.
“I am mistaken,” muttered the excited boy. “It cannot be! That man was blown into a thousand pieces!”
Breathlessly, he leaned forward, and he heard the man distinctly utter some words in French.
At the same time, he once more saw the man’s face fairly.
He fell back, dazed and bewildered, faintly gasping:
“It is Emile Durant, or his ghost!”