If only the bell would not tinkle! If it did ring? Well, death then, though it had taken away what was mortal of Asa Shores, had not conquered his eternal vigilance and strict attention to duty.
Farther to the left wavered the indicator, hesitatingly, uncertainly, then—the bell rang!
A weak, slow ring, it was, that sounded strange and unnatural in the deathlike silence of the dimly lighted lookout.
CAPTAIN DUNLAP was a brave man. He had smilingly faced death a dozen times in Granite River Prison.
But always his danger was known to be from living, breathing men. Abject terror gripped him now; a nameless terror that seemed to freeze the blood in his veins, contract every muscle and nerve of his body, smother his heart.
But even then reasoning struggled for recognition in his mind. What if it were a part of Asa Shores, a part of him that remained on earth to defy death and carry on? Hasn’t Asa always been Captain Dunlap’s friend? Why should he fear the spirit of a friend?
Dunlap reached forth a trembling hand, took the receiver from the hook and slowly, reluctantly, placed it to his ear. How he wished, hoped, prayed that no voice would come over the wire!
But it did come, preceded by a faint whispering sound:
“Old t-t-t-tow—” a long pause, then weakly, almost inaudibly, as if the message came from a million miles away—“Old t-t-tower n-n-n—three. S-S-Sho—”