As for Masters, the glamour and appeal of those strenuous words at the dinner-table had now passed, and presently, as he prepared to retire, he found himself far less confident and assured than his recent words had implied.He sank slowly from hope to fear, even pictured the worse, and asked himself what would follow if the worst happened.He believed that it might mean serious disaster for Sir Walter.If another life were sacrified to this unknown peril, and it transpired that his master had sanctioned what would amount to suicide in the eyes of reason; then he began to fear that grave trouble must result.Already the burning words of Septimus May began to cool and sound unreal, and Masters suspected that, if they were repeated in other ears, which had not heard him utter them, or seen the fervor of religious earnestness and reverence in which the had been spoken, this feverish business of exorcising a ghost in the twentieth century might only awake derision and receive neither credence nor respect.His entire concern was for Sir Walter, not Mr.May.He could not sleep, lighted a pipe, considered whether it was in his power to do anything, felt a sudden impulse to take certain steps, yet hesitated - from no fear to himself, but doubt whether action might not endanger another.Mary did not sleep either, and she suffered more, for she had never approved, and now she blamed herself not a little for her weak opposition.A thousand arguments occurred to her while she lay awake.
Then, for a time, she forgot present tribulations, and her own grief overwhelmed her, as it was wont to do by night.For while the events that had so swiftly followed each other since her husband's death banished him now and again, save from her subconscious mind, when alone he was swift to return and her sorrow made many a night sleepless.She was herself ill, but did not know it.The reaction had yet to come, and could not be long delayed, for her nervous energy was worn out now.She wept and lived days with the dead; then the present returned to her mind, and she fretted and prayed - for Septimus May and for daylight.She wondered why stormy nights were always the longest.She heard a thousand unfamiliar sounds, and presently leaped from her bed, put on a dressing-gown, and crept out into the house.To know that all was well with the watcher would hearten her.But then her feet dragged before she had left the threshold of her own room, and she stood still and shuddered a little.For how if all were not well? How if his voice no longer sounded?
She hesitated to make the experiment, and balanced the relief of reassurance against the horror of silence.She remembered a storm at sea, when through a long night, not lacking danger to a laboring steamer with weak engines, she had lain awake and felt her heart warm again when the watch shouted the hour.
She set out, then, determined to know if all prospered with her father- in-law.Nor would she give ear to misgiving or ask herself what she would do if no voice were steadily uplifted in the Grey Room.
The great wind seemed to play upon Chadlands like a harp.It roared and reverberated, now stilled a moment for another leap, now died away against the house, yet still sounded with a steady shout in the neighbor trees.At the casements it tugged and rattled; against them it flung the rain fiercely.Every bay and passage of the interior uttered its own voice, and overhead was creaking of old timbers, rattling of old slates, and rustling of mortar fragments dislodged by sudden vibrations.
Mary proceeded on her way, and then, to her astonishment, heard a footfall, and nearly ran into an invisible figure approaching from the direction of the Grey Room.Man and woman startled each other, butneither exclaimed, and Mrs.May spoke.
"Who is it?" she asked; and Masters answered:
"Oh, my gracious!Terrible sorry, ma'am!If I didn't think -" "What on earth are you doing, Masters?""Much the same as you, I expect, ma'am.I thought just to creep along and see if the reverend gentleman was all right.And he is.The light's burning - you can see it under the door - and he's praying away, steady as a steam-threshing machine.I doubt he's keeping the evil creature at arm's length, and I'm a tidy lot more hopeful than what I was an hour ago.The thing ain't strong enough to touch a man praying to God like what he can.But if prayers keep it harmless, then it's got ears and it's alive!""Can you believe that, Masters?" she whispered.
"Got to, ma'am.If it was just a natural horror beyond the reach of prayer, it would have knocked his reverence out long before now, like other people.It settled the police officer in under an hour, and Mr.May's been up against it for three - nearly four hours, so far.He'll bolt it yet, I shou1dn't wonder, like a ferret bolts a rat.""You really feel more hopeful?"
"Yes, I do, ma'am; and if he can fire the creature and signal 'All's clear' for Chadlands, it will calm everybody and be a proper feather in his cap, and he did ought to be made a bishop, at the least.Not that Scotland Yard men will believe a word of it to-morrow, all the same.Ghosts are bang out of their line, and I never met even a common constable that believed in 'em, except Bob Parrett, and he had bats in the belfry, poor chap.No; they'll reckon it's somebody in the house, I expect, who wanted to kill t' others, but ain't got no quarrel with Mr.May.And you'd be wise to get back to bed, ma'am, and try to sleep, else you'll catch a cold.I'll look round again in an hour or to, if I don't go to sleep my self."They parted, while the storm still ran high, and through the empty corridor, when it was lulled, a voice rolled steadily on from the Grey Boom.
When it suddenly ceased, an hour before dawn, the storm had already begun to sink, and through a rack of flying and breaking cloud the"Hunter" wheeled westerly to his setting.
