"It's Sycamore Hall in Jockey Hollow, where he was working," Arden supplied.
"Oh, there. Yes, I know Sycamore Hall. Old Mrs. Howe claims she ought to have it, but the Park Commission thinks differently. But this is the first I've heard about ghosts. Never mind them. That's the joke. Now, let me look you over."
It did not take Dr. Ramsdell long to ascertain that Jim Danton was not seriously hurt. He was cut and bruised, he had a very slight concussion of the brain, but no fracture of the skull, and a week's rest would make him well again, the physician announced.
"Keep him quiet," the doctor ordered as he left. But Jim was roused now. He seemed to want to talk. "Let him tell what's on his mind if he cares to," the physician suggested as he left, having set out some medicine from his bag and given orders as to its administration.
And when the doctor had gone Jim falteringly told his story.
"How did it happen?" asked his wife, having heard Nate's version.
"I don't know, Minnie. I was up in the room with another man--I sort of forget his name--and we were sizing it up--getting ready to rip it apart----"
"Why, I was there with you," interrupted Nate.
"Oh, that's right--you were." Jim had to talk very slowly. "Well, I went in the closet to get a crowbar I'd left there."
"I saw you go in," Nate contributed. "But you didn't come out."
"No," said Jim in a curiously dull voice. "I didn't come out. All I know is that I reached for my crowbar that was leaning against the closet wall and then, all of a sudden, it felt as though somebody hit me on the head. I fell down, and that's all I know--until just now." He sighed gratefully and pressed his wife's nervous hand.
"But what really happened to him? Who hit him?" demanded Mrs. Danton.
"That's what nobody knows," said Nate. "After Jim disappeared, we started looking for him. All but gave up when one of these young ladies found him in the cellar--unconscious."
"Neither of us found him," Arden said. "It was the granddaughter of the woman who claims to own Sycamore Hall--Betty Howe."
"Oh, that terrible ghost house!" moaned Jim's wife. "We heard stories about it before Jim went to work there--stories floating around Jockey Hollow--told by the Negro and Italian workmen. A lot of them quit. Then Mr. Callahan--Jim's worked for him before--sent out word for better men. Jim has been sick, but he decided to go.