of that door. For some unknown reason I _knew_ it was pressed up against
the door, and it was soft. That was just what I thought. Most
extraordinary thing to think.

"Presently I got hold of myself a bit, and marked out a pentacle
hurriedly with chalk on the polished floor; and there I sat in it
almost until dawn. And all the time, away up the corridor, the door of
the Grey Room thudded at solemn and horrid intervals. It was a
miserable, brutal night.

"When the day began to break, the thudding of the door came gradually to
an end, and, at last, I got hold of my courage, and went along the
corridor in the half light to cap the lens of my camera. I can tell you,
it took some doing; but if I had not done so my photograph would have
been spoilt, and I was tremendously keen to save it. I got back to my
room, and then set-to and rubbed out the five-pointed star in which I had
been sitting.

"Half an hour later there was a tap at my door. It was Peter with my
coffee. When I had drunk it, we both went along to the Grey Room. As we
went, I had a look at the seals on the other doors; but they were
untouched. The seal on the door of the Grey Room was broken, as also was
the string from the trigger of the flashlight; but the card over the
keyhole was still there. I ripped it off, and opened the door. Nothing
unusual was to be seen until we came to the bed; then I saw that, as on
the previous day, the bedclothes had been torn off, and hurled into the
left-hand corner, exactly where I had seen them before. I felt very
queer; but I did not forget to look at all the seals, only to find that
not one had been broken.