Forsyth repeated his question; and for answer, I rushed again at Amos, and even then would have killed him, had not the other caught me in his arms and held me fast.
The man was stronger than I thought; for, though I kicked and struggled, I could not free myself. Amos, as he watched us, regained a little of his commonsense, and got slowly upon his feet.
"No ghost," said he. "No ghost." And he went on repeating the words as if he were a parrot.
"Ghost!" laughed Forsyth. "If this is a ghost, he is a warm-blooded one, and as vicious as they make 'em."
"Then, who is he?" asked Baverstock. "I swear to you, he came out of the Tomb, as I'm a living man."
"And he's another," added Forsyth. "Who he is, or what business he has in such a place as this, I can no more say than you can. None the less, the circumstantial evidence is all against mortality. I am reminded, my friend, of the Carthaginian Queen: 'Exoriare aliquis nostris ex ossibus ultor'--(May some avenger arise from my bones). I call this individual 'Hannibal,' on that account."
"Who wants your Latin gibberish!" cried Amos. "Look plain facts in the face; call a spade a spade."
"Also," said Forsyth, in his usual sing-song voice, "call a man a man, and not a ghost."
"If he's alive," said Amos, coming even nearer, "then, who is he? I tell you, when I lifted the tombstone, he sprang forth like a Jack-in-a-box, and, had it not been for you, I would never have escaped with life."
"I have told you already," said the other, "I know no more of him than you do."