"The night succeeding the affair, whilst the Dean and O'Farroll were
still in jail awaiting the inquest, a party of undergraduates were
discussing the situation in Maguire's rooms, when the door burst open,
and into their midst, almost breathless with excitement, came a measly,
bespectacled youth named Brady--Patrick Brady. "'I'm awfully sorry to disturb you fellows,' he stammered, 'but there
have been odd noises just outside my room all the evening, and I've just
seen a queer kind of dog, that vanished, God knows how. I--I--well, you
will call me an ass, of course, but I'm afraid to stay there alone, and
that's the long and short of it.' "'Begorra!' Maguire exclaimed, 'it can't be poor Bob's ghost already! What sort of noises were they?' "'Noises like laughter!' Brady said. 'Loud peals of horrid laughter.' "'Someone trying to frighten you,' one of the undergrads observed, 'and
faith, he succeeded. You are twice as white as any sheet.' "'It's ill-timed mirth, anyhow,' someone else put in, 'with Anderson's
dead body upstairs. I'm for making an example of the blackguard.' "'And I,'--'And I,' the others echoed. "A general movement followed, and headed by Brady the procession moved
to the north wing of the College. At that time, be it remembered, a
large proportion of K. undergrads were in residence--now it is
otherwise. On reaching Brady's rooms the crowd halted outside and
listened. For some time there was silence; and then a laugh--low,
monotonous, unmirthful, metallic--coming as it were from some adjacent
chamber, and so unnatural, so abhorring, that it held everyone
spell-bound. It died away in the reverberations of the stone corridor,
its echoes seeming to awake a chorus of other laughs hardly less
dreadful. Again there was silence, no one daring to express his
thoughts. Then, as if by common consent, all turned precipitately into
Brady's room and slammed the door. "'That is what I heard,' Brady said. 'What does it mean?' "'Is it the meaning of it you're wanting to know?' Maguire observed. 'Sure 'tis the devil, for no one but him could make such a noise. I've
never heard the like of it before. Who has the rooms on either side of
you?' "'These?' Brady replied, pointing to the right. 'No one. They were
vacated at Easter, and are being repainted and decorated. These on the
left--Dobson, who is, I happen to know, at the present moment in Co.
Mayo. He won't be back till next week.' "'Then we can search them,' a student called Hartnoll intervened. "'To be sure we can,' Brady replied, 'but I doubt if you'll find
anyone.' "A search was made, and Brady proved to be correct. Not a vestige of
anyone was discovered. "Much mystified, Maguire's party was preparing to depart, when Hartnoll,
who had taken the keenest interest in the proceedings, suddenly said,
'Who has the rooms over yours, Brady? Sound, as you know, plays curious
tricks, and it is just as likely as not that laugh came from above.' "'Oh, I don't think so,' Brady answered. 'The man overhead is Belton, a
very decent sort. He is going in for his finals shortly, and is sweating
fearfully hard at present. We might certainly ask him if he heard the
noise.' "The students agreeing, Brady led the way upstairs, and in response to
their summons Belton hastily opened the door. He was a typical
book-worm--thin, pale and rather emaciated, but with a pleasant
expression in his eyes and mouth, that all felt was assuring. "'Hulloa!' he exclaimed, 'it isn't often I'm favoured with a surprise
party of this sort. Come in'; and he pressed them so hard that they felt
constrained to accept his hospitality, and before long were all seated
round the fire, quaffing whisky and puffing cigars as if they meant to
make a night of it. At two o'clock someone suggested that it was high
time they thought of bed, and Belton rose with them. "'Before we turn in, let's have another search,' he said. 'It's strange
you should all hear that noise except me--unless, of course, it came
from below.' "'But there's nothing under me,' Brady remarked, 'except the Dining
Hall.' "'Then let's search that,' Belton went on. 'We ought to make a thorough
job of it now we've once begun. Besides, I don't relish being in this
lonely place with that laugh "knocking" around, any more than you do.' "He went with them, and they completely overhauled the ground
floor--hall, dining-room, studies, passages, vestibules, everywhere that
was not barred to them; but they were no wiser at the end of their
search than at the beginning; there was not the slightest clue as to the
author of the laugh. *       *       *       *       *

"On the morrow there was a fresh shock. One of the College servants, on
entering Mr. Maguire's rooms to call him, found that gentleman half
dressed and lying on the floor. "Terrified beyond measure, the servant bent over him and discovered he
was dead, obviously stabbed with the same weapon that had put an end to
Bob Anderson. "The factotum at once gave the alarm. Everyone in the College came
trooping to the room, and for the second time within three days a
general hue and cry was raised. All, again, to no purpose--the murderer
had left no traces as to his identity. However, one thing at least was
established, and that was the innocence of Dean Kelly and Denis
O'Farroll. They were both liberated. "Then Hartnoll, who seems to have been a regular Sherlock Holmes, got to
work in grim earnest. On the floor in Maguire's room he picked up a
diminutive silver-topped pencil, which had rolled under the fender and
had so escaped observation. He asked several of Maguire's most intimate
friends if they remembered seeing the pencil-case in Maguire's
possession, but they shook their heads. He enquired in other quarters,
too, but with no better result, and finally resolved to ask Brady, who
belonged to quite a different set from himself. With that object in view
he set off to Brady's room shortly after supper. As there was no
response to his raps, he at length opened Brady's door. In front of the
hearth in a big easy chair sat a figure. "'Brady, by all that's holy,' Hartnoll exclaimed. 'By Jupiter, the
beggar's asleep. That's what comes of swotting too hard! Brady!' "Approaching the chair he called again, 'Brady!' and getting no reply,
patted the figure gently on the back. "'Be jabbers, you sleep soundly, old fellow!' he said. 'How about that!' and he shook him heartily by the shoulder. The instant he let go the
figure collapsed. In order to get a closer view Hartnoll then struck a
light with the tinder box. "The flickering of the candle flame fell on Brady's face. It was
white--ghastly white; there was no animation in it; the jaw dropped. "With a cry of horror Hartnoll sprang back, and as he did so a great
yellow dog dashed across the hearth in front of him, whilst from
somewhere close at hand came a laugh--long, low and satirical. A cold
terror gripped Hartnoll, and for a moment or so he was on the verge of
fainting.