“I saw it as plain as I see you, sir,” said George, solemnly. “P’raps if you keep your eyes turned up the passage you’ll see it for yourself.” They followed the direction of his finger, but saw nothing, although one of them fancied that a head peeped round the corner of the wall. “Who’ll come down to the bar?” said Malcolm, looking round. “You can go, if you like,” said one of the others, with a faint laugh; “we’ll wait here for you.” The stout traveller walked towards the door and took a few steps up the passage. Then he stopped. All was quite silent, and he walked slowly to the end and looked down fearfully towards the glass partition which shut off the bar. Three times he made as though to go to it; then he turned back, and, glancing over his shoulder, came hurriedly back to the room. “Did you see it, sir?” whispered George. “Don’t know,” said Malcolm, shortly. “I fancied I saw something, but it might have been fancy. I’m in the mood to see anything just now. How are you feeling now, sir?” “Oh, I feel a bit better now,” said Hirst, somewhat brusquely, as all eyes were turned upon him. “I dare say you think I’m easily scared, but you didn’t see it.” “Not at all,” said Malcolm, smiling faintly despite himself. “I’m going to bed,” said Hirst, noticing the smile and resenting it. “Will you share my room with me, Somers?” “I will with pleasure,” said his friend, “provided you don’t mind sleeping with the gas on full all night.” He rose from his seat, and bidding the company a friendly good-night, left the room with his crestfallen friend. The others saw them to the foot of the stairs, and having heard their door close, returned to the coffee-room. “Well, I suppose the bet’s off?” said the stout commercial, poking the fire and then standing with his legs apart on the hearthrug; “though, as far as I can see, I won it. I never saw a man so scared in all my life. Sort of poetic justice about it, isn’t there?” “Never mind about poetry or justice,” said one of his listeners; “who’s going to sleep with me?” “I will,” said Malcolm, affably. “And I suppose we share a room together, Mr. Leek?” said the third man, turning to the fourth. “No, thank you,” said the other, briskly; “I don’t believe in ghosts. If anything comes into my room I shall shoot it.” “That won’t hurt a spirit, Leek,” said Malcolm, decisively. “Well the noise’ll be like company to me,” said Leek, “and it’ll wake the house too. But if you’re nervous, sir,” he added, with a grin, to the man who had suggested sharing his room, “George’ll be only too pleased to sleep on the door-mat inside your room, I know.” “That I will, sir,” said George, fervently; “and if you gentlemen would only come down with me to the bar to put the gas out, I could never be sufficiently grateful.”