would give a clear light. I carried it up the corridor, about thirty
feet, and put it down on the floor, with the open side away from me, so
that it would show me anything that might approach along the dark
passage. Then I went back, and sat in the doorway of my room, with my
revolver handy, staring up the passage toward the place where I knew my
camera stood outside the door of the Grey Room.

"I should think I had watched for about an hour and a half, when,
suddenly, I heard a faint noise, away up the corridor. I was immediately
conscious of a queer prickling sensation about the back of my head, and
my hands began to sweat a little. The following instant, the whole end of
the passage flicked into sight in the abrupt glare of the flashlight.
There came the succeeding darkness, and I peered nervously up the
corridor, listening tensely, and trying to find what lay beyond the faint
glow of my dark-lamp, which now seemed ridiculously dim by contrast with
the tremendous blaze of the flash-power.... And then, as I stooped
forward, staring and listening, there came the crashing thud of the door
of the Grey Room. The sound seemed to fill the whole of the large
corridor, and go echoing hollowly through the house. I tell you, I felt
horrible--as if my bones were water. Simply beastly. Jove! how I did
stare, and how I listened. And then it came again--thud, thud, thud, and
then a silence that was almost worse than the noise of the door; for I
kept fancying that some awful thing was stealing upon me along the
corridor. And then, suddenly, my lamp was put out, and I could not see a
yard before me. I realized all at once that I was doing a very silly
thing, sitting there, and I jumped up. Even as I did so, I _thought_ I
heard a sound in the passage, and quite _near_ me. I made one backward
spring into my room, and slammed and locked the door. I sat on my bed,
and stared at the door. I had my revolver in my hand; but it seemed an
abominably useless thing. I felt that there was something the other side