We did. Most of all, we were interested in that bell. We did not
think, either of us, that so much noise could come out of nothing.
It was too material. The other we could credit to the occult; but
not the sound. It had drowned our consciousness; perhaps it had
saved us from the Rhamda. But we found nothing. We went over the
house systematically. It was much as it had been previously
described, only now a bit more furnished. The same dank, musty
smell and the same suggestive silence. We returned to the lower
floor and the library. It was a sorry sight. We straightened up
the shelves and returned the books to their places.

It was getting along toward morning. Hobart sailed at nine
o'clock. We must have new clothing and some coffee; likewise we
must collect our wits. I had the ring, and had given my pledge to
Watson. I was muddled. We must get down to sane action. First of
all we must return to our rooms.

The fog had grown thicker; one could almost taste it. I couldn't
suppress a shudder. It was cold, dank, repressive. Neither of us
spoke a word on our way downtown. Hobart opened the door to our
apartment; he turned on the lights.

In a few moments we had hot, steaming cups of coffee. Still we did
not speak. Hobart sat in his chair, his elbows on the table and
his head between his hands. My thoughts ran back to that day in
college when he said "I was just thinking, Harry, if I had one
hundred thousand dollars, I would solve the Blind Spot."

That was long ago. We had neither of us thought that we would come