“Yes,” said Lester, nodding.  “Unless—­Good Lord! suppose——­”

He broke off and eyed them trembling.

“Suppose what?” inquired Meagle.

“Nothing,” stammered Lester.  “Let’s wake him.  Try him again. White!  White!”

“It’s no good,” said Meagle seriously; “there’s something wrong about that sleep.”

“That’s what I meant,” said Lester; “and if he goes to sleep like that, why shouldn’t——­”

Meagle sprang to his feet.  “Nonsense,” he said roughly.  “He’s tired out; that’s all.  Still, let’s take him up and clear out.  You take his legs and Barnes will lead the way with the candle.  Yes?  Who’s that?”

He looked up quickly towards the door.  “Thought I heard somebody tap,” he said with a shamefaced laugh.  “Now, Lester, up with him.  One, two—­ Lester!  Lester!”

He sprang forward too late; Lester, with his face buried in his arms, had rolled over on the floor fast asleep, and his utmost efforts failed to awaken him.

“He—­is—­asleep,” he stammered. “’Asleep!”

Barnes, who had taken the candle from the mantel-piece, stood peering at the sleepers in silence and dropping tallow over the floor.

[Illustration:  “Barnes, stood peering at the sleepers in silence and dropping tallow over the floor.”]

“We must get out of this,” said Meagle.  “Quick!” Barnes hesitated.  “We can’t leave them here—­” he began.

“We must,” said Meagle in strident tones.  “If you go to sleep I shall go—­Quick!  Come.”

He seized the other by the arm and strove to drag him to the door.  Barnes shook him off, and putting the candle back on the mantelpiece, tried again to arouse the sleepers.

“It’s no good,” he said at last, and, turning from them, watched Meagle.  “Don’t you go to sleep,” he said anxiously.

Meagle shook his head, and they stood for some time in uneasy silence.  “May as well shut the door,” said Barnes at last.

He crossed over and closed it gently.  Then at a scuffling noise behind him he turned and saw Meagle in a heap on the hearthstone.

With a sharp catch in his breath he stood motionless.  Inside the room the candle, fluttering in the draught, showed dimly the grotesque attitudes of the sleepers.  Beyond the door there seemed to his over-wrought imagination a strange and stealthy unrest.  He tried to whistle, but his lips were parched, and in a mechanical fashion he stooped, and began to pick up the cards which littered the floor.

He stopped once or twice and stood with bent head listening.  The unrest outside seemed to increase; a loud creaking sounded from the stairs.

“Who is there?” he cried loudly.

The creaking ceased.  He crossed to the door and flinging it open, strode out into the corridor.  As he walked his fears left him suddenly.

“Come on!” he cried with a low laugh.  “All of you!  All of you!  Show your faces—­your infernal ugly faces!  Don’t skulk!”