“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.’