I felt left out in the cold, as though all the responsibility of what might happen this night were thrown upon my shoulders. Or rather upon my heart, for it beat heavily, and with the deepening darkness throbbed with uneasier forebodings. And then there came a crash at which I sprang to my feet, so unstrung was I with anxiety. But my father listening for a moment said, "Some old chimney, I suppose," and resumed the conversation. I sat down again, and tried to listen to what the two were talking about, but I remember nothing, for all my attention was strained out for that coming cry. And suddenly it came, sharp, as though at a swift sting, shrill, and breaking into sobs of self-pitying abandonment to anguish, to die away in a forlorn moan. Again I sprang to my feet, and cried, "Listen!" "You mustn't be afraid," said my father to Worthing, "the wind does that kind of thing." "Oh, daddy, it isn't the wind," I cried. "Yes, Tommy, just the wind," he answered, looking at me, and throwing a half glance towards Worthing. I took his hint to mean that my friend mustn't be alarmed before the ordeal. So I tried to possess myself in calmness. But when it was time to go to bed I was shaking with fear, so much so that Worthing noticed it and said, "It looks as though you're to sleep in the haunted room instead of me." "Oh, Worthing, don't go," I said. He looked at me coldly and answered, "Oh, so that's what all this little farce is about, is it? You want to frighten me from the attempt? Come." That stung me, and without a word I handed him his candle and took my own, and together we went up the echoing stairs, out under the archway, and wound our way along through the twisting corridor, shielding our candles as well as we could when we came to some half exposed space, sometimes standing crouched against the wall till a gust had spent its fury and swept by, and then on again, till puffing with the journey we arrived at the haunted room. Once more I would have begged him to turn back, and I did say, "Let me stay with you," but he froze me away from him, and I turned and left him there alone, beating my way back through the night and wind to my chamber. But once I heard a moan so near me that I stopped as though petrified, and held my breath to listen. But just as I breathed again, a deep draught, I thought I heard the sound repeated, but it was drowned in my breathing. But what I did hear sounded strangely like a little chuckle of some mocking and evil thing, so that I stepped on hastily, heedless of my footing, and arrived at my room in a fine state of terror. And there I sat on my bed, hearkening to the sounds of the night, and bitterly reproaching myself, but unable to still the absurd thumping of my heart and quivering of my limbs.