"I can tell you, after a fashion, sir," Reade answered. "Yet this was a part of Hazelton's performance. He had charge here, and knew ever so much about it. Poor old Harry!"
Behind them, at the beginning of the wall, a long, loud whistle sounded.
In a moment fully a hundred of the workmen stood up, waved their caps and cheered as though they had gone mad.
Coming forward, with long strides, was Harry Hazelton, in the flesh!
CHAPTER VIII
MR. PRENTER INVESTIGATES
Tom suddenly felt dizzy. He wished to race back, to be the first to greet his chum and press his hand. But just then Reade felt strangely bewildered.
"Of course I don't believe in ghosts!" Tom laughed nervously.
"No!" chuckled Mr. Prenter. "This is real flesh and blood that is coming toward us."
Now, for the first time, Tom Reade knew just how fully he had believed, in the inner temple of his soul, that Harry Hazelton had been actually killed.