“You?” he exclaimed in amazement. “You here? Then you’ve told them everything!”
Osgood seized him, swept him off his feet and practically bore him into another room.
“Look, Charley!” he cried, pointing at a person who sat in the depths of a big easy-chair, near which hovered Mrs. Hooker. “Here he is! He’s all right now, too. He’s all right, for he can talk and he remembers.”
The person on the easy-chair was Roy Hooker!
[CHAPTER XXVII—LIKE A MIRACLE.]
Only for Osgood’s sustaining arm, Shultz would have collapsed completely. Ned helped him to a chair, where he sat staring in dumb amazement and doubt at Roy Hooker. It was a marvel of marvels, a miracle beyond his understanding.
“I’m dreaming,” he thought. “It can’t be true.”
But Roy was there. Roy was speaking. Shultz heard him say:
“You look to be in worse condition than I am, old fellow. You’re all broken up.”
Shultz was broken up indeed. Not a sound did he make, but he covered his face with his hands, and tears began trickling through his fingers. Then he felt some one touching him gently, reassuringly, and heard the husky voice of Professor Richardson, the man he had scorned and sneered at, saying gently, almost tenderly: