"Jupiter!" repeated Todd miserably. "I've checked and rechecked it. I
can't be wrong." He stared at me, small dancing lights of fear in his
eyes. "Sparks," he whispered, "that _was_ Biggs we saw, wasn't it?"
"If it wasn't," I told him, "I'm a ring-tailed baboon. And no cracks!"
"But everyone seems to be taking it for granted he is still _alive_."
Todd fidgeted nervously. "That his orders will help us, somehow.
Suppose--suppose, Sparks, our _first_ hunch was right, after all? That
Biggs is really dead? And that it _was_ his ghost we saw?"