The Grey Room
tell her of my rash act to-morrow. Don't think I'm a fool. Nobody loves life better than I do, and nobody has better reason to. But I'm positive that this is all rank nonsense, and so are you really. We know there's nothing in the room with a shadow of supernatural danger about it. Besides, you wouldn't want to sleep there so badly if you believed anything wicked was waiting for you. You're tons cleverer than I am—so you must agree about that."     

       Lennox was bound to confess that he entertained no personal fear. They still argued, and the clock struck midnight. Then the sailor made a       suggestion.     

       "Since you're so infernally obstinate, I'll do this. We'll toss up, and the winner can have the fun. That's fair to both."     

       The other agreed; he tossed a coin, and May called "tails," and won.     

       He was jubilant, while Henry showed a measure of annoyance. The other consoled him.     

       "It's better so, old man. You're highly strung and nervy, and a poet and all that sort of thing. I'm no better than a prize ox, and don't know what       nerves mean. I can sleep anywhere, anyhow. If you can sleep in a submarine, you bet you can in a nice, airy Elizabethan room, even if it is haunted. But it's not; that's the whole point. There's not a haunted room in the world. Get me your service revolver, like a good chap."     

       Henry was silent, and Tom rose to make ready for his vigil.     

       "I'm dog-tired, anyhow," he said. "Nothing less than Queen Elizabeth herself will keep me awake, if it does appear."     

       Then the other surprised him.     

       "Don't think I want to go back on it. You've won the right to make the experiment—if we ignore Uncle Walter. But—well, you'll laugh, yet, on my honor, Tom, I've got a feeling I'd rather you didn't. It isn't nerves. I'm not nervy any more than you are. I'm not suggesting that I go now, of course. But I do ask you to think better of it and chuck the thing."     

       "Why?"     

       "Well, one can't help one's feelings. I do feel a rum sort of conviction at the bottom of my mind that it's not good enough. I can't explain; there are no words for 
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