“I wonder if he’ll really discover anything,” said Terry as they neared the place.
“He might,” was Arden’s opinion. “He has a good head, I believe.”
“He has nice teeth, anyhow.”
“To bite ghosts with, I suppose!” laughed Arden.
“Yep! Well, I can see the place now,” remarked Terry as they topped a little rise. “There doesn’t seem to be any men working there, though—no plaster dust floating out of the windows as usual when men are tearing down an old building.”
“It is quiet,” Arden admitted as they walked in front of the Hall. “I suppose Mr. Callahan is wondering what sort of workmen to get next, since his white-collar class has left, apparently.”
“Look!” Terry suddenly exclaimed, pointing. “Footprints in the snow. At least one man has gone in there!”
“That is very evident, Robinson Crusoe,” laughed Arden. “As your man Friday, I agree with you. Someone has gone in, and one man only, judging by the footprints. And as these are plain footprints and not little scratchy marks in the snow I think we may safely argue that it is no ghost.”
“Who said it was?” countered Terry. “But what can one workman do in tearing down such a big house?”
At that moment a head was thrust out of an upper and partly demolished window and a voice cheerily called: