"The jewels," said a familiar voice, "have been distributed where they will do the most good. Their wealth has been converted into food to fill the bellies of those who hunger."
All occupants of the refuge spun as one, seeking in vain the speaker. Neil Hardesty cried:
"Dirk! Then Brian was right! But ... where are you?"
The voice from nowhere chuckled.
"That is what Garroway would like to know. I am beside you, Neil. Reach out your hand."
Hardesty did so. Briefly he felt a strange, warm tingling ... then his hand met and gripped the hand of Morris. Tears sprang to the Group leader's eyes. He choked, "Dirk! Thank the gods you have returned! We thought you were—"
He hesitated over the word. Morris supplied it.
"Dead? I am, Neil ... so far as you are concerned."
All members of the listening party stirred uneasily. Vurrth grunted, and Brian Shaughnessey husked, "You see? I guessed it. A ghost—"
"That's right," laughed Morris in most unwraithlike tones. "A ghost. A galactic ghost ... free to roam the System without hindrance or bar. Fleshless at will ... but with a body if I so desire."