Ephraim's bed-room as soon as I found an opportunity. Then I
looked about the room for some other toy, feeling in a fine state
of excitement with the success of my adventure. The room was
quite bare. But for this ghost-machine, there was nothing which
could interest me, except a curious drawing, done with a burnt
stick on the plaster of the wall, of a man-of-war under sail.
After examining this drawing, I listened carefully at the door
lest my faint footsteps should have roused someone below. I could
hear no one stirring; the house was silent. "I must be careful,"
I said to myself. "They all may have gone to bed." Understand, I
did not know then what I was doing. I was merely a wrong-headed
boy, up to a prank, begun in a moment of rebellion. When I paused
in the landing, outside the ghost-room, shading the candle with
my hand, I was not aware that I was doing wrong. I was only
thinking how fine it would be to find out about Mr. Jermyn,
before crawling back, over the plank, to my bed. I wanted to
steal about these deserted floors, like a conspirator; then,
having, perhaps, found out about the mystery, to go back home. It
did not enter my head that I might be shot as a burglar. My
original intention, you must remember, had only been to stop the
works of the ghost. It was later on that my intention became
criminal, instead of merely boyish, or, in other words,
crack-brained. As to stopping the ghost, I could not stop the
revolving pipe. I could do no more than take away the light from
the ghost-face. As for the owl on the lower floor, when I came to
it, could not do so much, for it was a great big picture on
board, done in some shining paint. I had nothing with which I
could smear it over, nor could I reach the head. As for stopping
the machine, that I dared not attempt to do, lest I should bring
someone up to me, from the works, wherever they were. Standing by