Now the old tower was cold, even as poor old Asa was cold; the doors were locked and barred. Never again, thought Dunlap, would be heard Asa Shores' familiar song on the quiet night air. What were the words to that song?
"When I am dead and buried deep,
"I'll return at night to take a peep
"At those who hated—"
Captain Dunlap suddenly sat erect in his chair. The pipe fell from his lips and clattered on the floor, as his lower jaw dropped and his eyes opened wide to stare at the indicator board; for--
The indicator for Old Tower Number Three was moving--moving, not with a quick turn to the left, but in a hesitant, jerky way that caused the root of every hair on Captain Dunlap's head to tingle. Never before had the captain seen an indicator behave like that. In fact, the indicator system was designed and constructed in such a way that, being controlled by electric contacts, the various indicators would snap into position when a push button in each tower was pressed by the guard on duty in that tower.
In short, and indicator, in accordance with all the rules of electricity as applied to the system, must remain stationary or jerk to the left when the button in the tower was pressed. But here was indicator for Old Tower Number Three wavering, trembling to the left, only to fall back repeatedly to a vertical position. Then again, jerkily, hesitantly to the left, as if a vagrant soul strove to brush aside the veil that banished it from the living.
Captain Dunlap sat rigid and watched the uncanny movements of the bright brass indicator. Vague, fleeting, chaotic thoughts of crossed wires, practical jokers, wandering souls tumbled one after another through his brain.
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, hesitantingly, 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 carny 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—"
Another pause, a jumble of meaningless words, then a chuckle. God! Asa's familiar chuckle!
"On duty. All O-O—all O—"
A light laugh, a sharp buzzing sound, a sigh, the faint tinkle of a bell, then silence!
Dunlap heard no click of a receiver being replaced on a hook. The line was apparently still open.
Still holding the receiver to his ear, the captain moistened his dry lips with the tip of his tongue. His free hand went involuntarily to his forehead in a vague uncertain gesture and came away damp with perspiration. Must
