At one point he observed also many smaller than the rest, as though made by the feet of boys; and these were particularly numerous in the vicinity of a great flat tomb-stone, embedded apparently in the solid earth, about which the snow had all been cleared away.
"Mr. Hook," whispered Frank, nervously, "what can this mean?"
"My boy, you have me there. I can't tell any more than yourself."
"It is very, very strange. I saw my mother as plainly as I see you now. I heard her words spoken in her own voice."
"You are positive that it was your mother, Frank?" said the detective, musingly, as he stood contemplating the great flat stone.
"Positive? Of course I am. It is almost enough to make me feel that I am going mad myself. I should doubt my own vision, my hearing even, had you not both seen and heard too."
"There is nothing to doubt," replied Hook with sudden emphasis, turning his gaze at the same time upon the boy, who stood trembling with excitement before him.
"What you saw I saw, what you heard was heard also by me. No, no, my boy, there is no madness in this case. If you are positive that the woman murdered in Catherine street was your mother, that the woman I followed through the streets last night was your mother, then, although I am an utter disbeliever in spiritual manifestations of all kinds, I see but one conclusion to draw——"
As the detective paused, staring about the church-yard in deep perplexity, Frank felt a shudder pass through his frame from his head to his feet.
If the man by his side did not believe in ghosts, no more did he.