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His feet struck the top round of a ladder. A moment more and he was crouching in the shadow of the wall, two shadowy forms squatting beside him. "You throwed somethin' at the ghost afore you howled an' run," Fatty stated. "Maybe it was the rabbit foot?" "Sick? Where's he sick?" Mrs. Keeler lifted the basket to the table and coming back to Maurice, put a berry-stained finger under his chin. "Stick out your tongue!" she commanded. "Billy, you fetch that lamp over here." Stanhope sank back on his box, his relaxed nerves throbbing and his lips forming the words: "Thank God!".