I was in the act of getting into it, when
the old butler's voice (he had not said a word for the last hour) came
sharp and frightened:--'Come out, sir, quick! There's something going to
happen!' Jove! but I jumped, and then, in the same moment, one of the
candles on the table to the left went out. Now whether it was the wind,
or what, I do not know; but, just for a moment, I was enough startled to
make a run for the door; though I am glad to say that I pulled up, before
I reached it. I simply could not bunk out, with the butler standing
there, after having, as it were, read him a sort of lesson on 'bein'
brave, y'know.' So I just turned right 'round, picked up the two candles
off the mantelpiece, and walked across to the table near the bed. Well, I
saw nothing. I blew out the candle that was still alight; then I went to
those on the two tables, and blew them out. Then, outside of the door,
the old man called again:--'Oh! sir, do be told! Do be told!' "'All right, Peter,' I said, and by Jove, my voice was not as steady as
I should have liked! I made for the door, and had a bit of work not to
start running. I took some thundering long strides, as you can imagine. Near the door, I had a sudden feeling that there was a cold wind in the
room. It was almost as if the window had been suddenly opened a little. I got to the door, and the old butler gave back a step, in a sort of
instinctive way. 'Collar the candles, Peter!' I said, pretty sharply,
and shoved them into his hands. I turned, and caught the handle, and
slammed the door shut, with a crash. Somehow, do you know, as I did so,
I thought I felt something pull back on it; but it must have been only
fancy. I turned the key in the lock, and then again, double-locking the
door. I felt easier then, and set-to and sealed the door. In addition, I
put my card over the keyhole, and sealed it there; after which I
pocketed the key, and went downstairs--with Peter; who was nervous and
silent, leading the way. Poor old beggar! It had not struck me until
that moment that he had been enduring a considerable strain during the
last two or three hours. "About midnight, I went to bed. My room lay at the end of the corridor
upon which opens the door of the Grey Room. I counted the doors between
it and mine, and found that five rooms lay between. And I am sure you can
understand that I was not sorry. Then, just as I was beginning to
undress, an idea came to me, and I took my candle and sealing wax, and
sealed the doors of all five rooms. If any door slammed in the night, I
should know just which one. "I returned to my room, locked the door, and went to bed. I was waked
suddenly from a deep sleep by a loud crash somewhere out in the passage. I sat up in bed, and listened, but heard nothing. Then I lit my candle. I
was in the very act of lighting it when there came the bang of a door
being violently slammed, along the corridor. I jumped out of bed, and got
my revolver. I unlocked the door, and went out into the passage, holding
my candle high, and keeping the pistol ready. Then a queer thing
happened. I could not go a step toward the Grey Room. You all know I am
not really a cowardly chap. I've gone into too many cases connected with
ghostly things, to be accused of that; but I tell you I funked it; simply
funked it, just like any blessed kid. There was something precious unholy
in the air that night. I ran back into my bedroom, and shut and locked
the door. Then I sat on the bed all night, and listened to the dismal
thudding of a door up the corridor. The sound seemed to echo through all
the house. "Daylight came at last, and I washed and dressed. The door had not
slammed for about an hour, and I was getting back my nerve again. I felt
ashamed of myself; though, in some ways it was silly; for when you're
meddling with that sort of thing, your nerve is bound to go, sometimes. And you just have to sit quiet and call yourself a coward until daylight. Sometimes it is more than just cowardice, I fancy. I believe at times it
is something warning you, and fighting _for_ you. But, all the same, I
always feel mean and miserable, after a time like that. "When the day came properly, I opened my door, and, keeping my revolver
handy, went quietly along the passage. I had to pass the head of the
stairs, along the way, and who should I see coming up, but the old
butler, carrying a cup of coffee. He had merely tucked his nightshirt
into his trousers, and he had an old pair of carpet slippers on. "'Hullo, Peter!' I said, feeling suddenly cheerful; for I was as glad as
any lost child to have a live human being close to me. 'Where are you off
to with the refreshments?' "The old man gave a start, and slopped some of the coffee. He stared up
at me, and I could see that he looked white and done-up. He came on up
the stairs, and held out the little tray to me. 'I'm very thankful
indeed, sir, to see you safe and well,' he said. 'I feared, one time, you
might risk going into the Grey Room, sir. I've lain awake all night, with
the sound of the Door. And when it came light, I thought I'd make you a
cup of coffee. I knew you would want to look at the seals, and somehow it
seems safer if there's two, sir.' "'Peter,' I said, 'you're a brick. This is very thoughtful of you.' And I
drank the coffee. 'Come along,' I told him, and handed him back the tray. 'I'm going to have a look at what the Brutes have been up to. I simply
hadn't the pluck to in the night.' "'I'm very thankful, sir,' he replied. 'Flesh and blood can do nothing,
sir, against devils; and that's what's in the Grey Room after dark.' "I examined the seals on all the doors, as I went along, and found them
right; but when I got to the Grey Room, the seal was broken; though the
card, over the keyhole, was untouched. I ripped it off, and unlocked the
door, and went in, rather cautiously, as you can imagine; but the whole
room was empty of anything to frighten one, and there was heaps of light. I examined all my seals, and not a single one was disturbed. The old
butler had followed me in, and, suddenly, he called out:--'The
bedclothes, sir!' "I ran up to the bed, and looked over; and, surely, they were lying in
the corner to the left of the bed. Jove! you can imagine how queer I
felt. Something _had_ been in the room. I stared for a while, from the
bed, to the clothes on the floor. I had a feeling that I did not want to
touch either. Old Peter, though, did not seem to be affected that way. He
went over to the bed coverings, and was going to pick them up, as,
doubtless, he had done every day these twenty years back; but I stopped
him. I wanted nothing touched, until I had finished my examination. This,
I must have spent a full hour over, and then I let Peter straighten up
the bed; after which we went out, and I locked the door; for the room was
getting on my nerves.