atisfaction that life had broken from its customary monotonous round
to furnish him with an adventure so unique. He pointed out a fact to the
policeman before they had started.

"You will observe," he said, with satire, "that, despite the heat we
are directed to apply to this unfortunate man, rigor mortis has set in.
Whether the authority in London regards that as an evidence of death, of
course I cannot pretend to say. Perhaps not. I may be behind the times."

Neither Mannering nor Lennox had spared much thought for those left
behind them at Chadlands. The extraordinary character of the task put
upon them sufficed to fill their minds, and it was not until the small
hours, when they sat with their hands in their pockets and the train
ran steadily through darkness and storm, that the younger spoke of his
cousin.

"I hope those old men won't bully Mary to-night," he said. "I'd meant to
ask you to give Uncle Walter a caution. May's not quite all there, in my
opinion, and very likely, now you're out of the way, he'll get round Sir
Walter about that infernal room."

Mannering became interested.

"D'you mean for an instant he wants to try his luck after what's
happened?"

"You forget. Your day has been so full that you forget what did happen."

"I do not, Lennox. Mary begged me to tackle the man. I calmed him, and
he came down to his luncheon. He must have thought over the matter since
then, and seen that he was playing with death."

"Far from it, 'The future is mine!' That's what he said. And that means
he'll try and be in the Grey Room alone to-night."

"I wish to Heaven you'd made this clear before we'd started. But
surely we can trust Sir Walter; he knows what this means, even if that
superstitious lunatic doesn't."

"I don't want to bother you," answered Henry; "but, looking back, I'm
none so sure that we can trust my uncle. He's been pretty wild to-day,
and who shall blame him? Things like this crashing into his life leave
him guessing. He's very shaken, and has lost his mental grip, too.
Reality's played him such ugly tricks that he may be tempted to fall
back on unreality now."

"You don't mean he'll let May go into that room to-night?"

"I hope not. He was firm enough last night when the clergyman clamored
to do so. In fact, he made me keep watch to see he didn't. But I think
he's weakened a lot since Hardcastle came to grief in broad daylight.
And I sha'n't be there to do anything."

"All this comes