“Our clock!” whispered Phil, as though to speak aloud would break the magic spell.
“It’s come back,” went on Sid, taking a step forward in a stealthy manner, as if he expected to surprise a burglar in the act. “Fellows, to all the gods that on Olympus dwell most everlasting praises be! Our clock’s come back!”
[CHAPTER VIII]
ANOTHER IDEA
Making ready as though to greet an old friend who had long been absent, the three lads advanced to the middle of the room in the semi-darkness. Louder ticked the clock, and it was like music to their ears. Tom snapped on the electric lights, and the gaze of our three heroes went together toward the mantle shelf.
Then there came three simultaneous gasps of astonishment, a starting back in surprise, a catching of breaths.
“The clock!” spoke Tom, aghast.
“It isn’t ours!” added Phil, gaspingly.
“They’ve brought back the wrong one!” exclaimed Sid.