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 it that I know, but it's