Overhead, Henry had tried the door of the Grey Room, and found it locked. As he did so, the gong sounded for breakfast. Masters always performed upon it. First he woke a preliminary whisper of the great bronze disc, then deepened the note to a genial and mellow roar, and finally calmed it down again until it faded gently into silence. He spoke of the gong as a musical instrument, and declared the art of sounding it was a gift that few men could acquire. Neither movement nor response rewarded the summons of Lennox, and now in genuine alarm, he went below again, stopped Fred Caunter, the footman, and asked him to call out Sir Walter. Fred waited until his master had said a brief grace before meat; then he stepped to his side and explained, that his nephew desired to see him. "Good patience! What's the matter?" asked the old man as he rose and joined Henry in the hall. Then his nephew spoke, and indicated his alarm. He stammered a little, but strove to keep calm and state facts clearly. "It's like this. I'm afraid you'll be rather savage, but I can't talk now. Tom and I had a yarn when you'd gone to bed, and he was awfully keen to spend the night in the Grey Room." "I did not wish it." "I know--we were wrong--but we were both death on it, and we tossed up, and he won." "Where is he?" "Up there now, looking out of the window. I've called him and made a row at the door, but he doesn't answer. He's locked himself in, apparently." "What have you done, Henry? We must get to him instantly. Tell Caunter--no, I will. Don't breathe a syllable of this to anybody unless necessity arises. Don't tell Mary." Sir Walter beckoned the footman, bade him get some tools and ascend quickly to the Grey Room. He then went up beside his nephew, while Fred, bristling with excitement, hastened to the toolroom. He was a handy man, had been at sea during the war, and now returned to his old employment. His slow brain moved backwards, and he remembered that this was a task he had already performed ten or more years before. Then the ill-omened chamber had revealed a dead woman. Who was in it now? Caunter guessed readily enough. Lennox spoke to his uncle as they approached the locked door. "It was only a lark, just to clear the room of its bad character and have a laugh at your expense this morning. But I'm afraid he's ill--fainted or something. He turned in about one o'clock. I was rather bothered, and couldn't explain to myself why, but--" "Don't chatter!" answered the other. "You have both done a very wrong thing and should have respected my wishes." At the door he called loudly. "Let us in at once, Tom, please! I am much annoyed! If this is a jest, it has gone far enough--and too far! I blame you severely!" But none replied. Absolute silence held the Grey Room.