He had not to wait long. In about half a minute it came again, and, simultaneously with the sound, the door flew open. There was no one to be seen; but, as he opened the door, he heard a strange sound in the corridor—a sound which scarcely could be called a groan, and scarcely a sigh, but seemed a compound of both, having the agony of the one combined with the sadness of the other. From what direction it came he could not at the moment decide, but he called out,—
“Who’s there? who’s there?”
The echo of his own voice alone answered him for a few moments, and then he heard a door open, and a voice, which he knew to be Henry’s, cried,—
“What is it? who speaks?”
“Henry,” said Charles.
“Yes—yes—yes.”
“I fear I have disturbed you.”
“You have been disturbed yourself, or you would not have done so. I shall be with you in a moment.”
Henry closed his door before Charles Holland could tell him not to come to him, as he intended to do, for he felt ashamed to have, in a manner of speaking, summoned assistance for so trifling a cause of alarm as that to which he had been subjected. However, he could not go to Henry’s chamber to forbid him from coming to his, and, more vexed than before, he retired to his room again to await his coming.
He left the door open now, so that Henry Bannerworth, when he had got on some articles of dress, walked in at once, saying,—
“What has happened, Charles?”
“A mere trifle, Henry, concerning which I am ashamed you should have been at all disturbed.”
“Never mind that, I was wakeful.”
“I heard a door open, which kept me listening, but I could not decide which door it was till I heard your voice in the corridor.”
“Well, it was this door; and I opened it twice in consequence of the repeated taps for admission that came to it; some one has been knocking at it, and, when I go to it, lo! I can see nobody.”
“Indeed!”
[Illustration]
“Such is the case.”
“You surprise me.”
“I am very sorry to have disturbed you, because, upon such a ground, I do not feel that I ought to have done so; and, when I called out in the corridor, I assure you it was with no such intention.”
“Do not regret it for a moment,” said Henry; “you were quite justified in making an alarm on such an occasion.”
“It’s strange enough, but still it may arise from some accidental cause; admitting, if we did but know it, of some ready enough explanation.”
“It may, certainly, but, after what has happened already, we may well suppose a mysterious connexion between any unusual sight or sound, and the fearful ones we have already seen.”
“Certainly we may.”
“How earnestly that strange portrait seems to look upon us, Charles.”
“It does, and I have been examining it carefully. It seems to have been removed lately.”