afraid I shared my men's dread of church parade, though our padre was a merciful being on the whole and fairly sensible."
Overhead, Henry had tried the door of the Grey Room, and found it locked. As he did so, the gong sounded for breakfast. Masters always performed upon it. First he woke a preliminary whisper of the great bronze disc, then deepened the note to a genial and mellow roar, and finally calmed it down again until it faded gently into silence. He spoke of the gong as a musical instrument, and declared the art of sounding it was a gift that few men could acquire.
Neither movement nor response rewarded the summons of Lennox, and now in genuine alarm, he went below again, stopped Fred Caunter, the footman, and asked him to call out Sir Walter.
Fred waited until his master had said a brief grace before meat; then he stepped to his side and explained, that his nephew desired to see him.
"Good patience! What's the matter?" asked the old man as he rose and joined Henry in the hall.
Then his nephew spoke, and indicated his alarm. He stammered a little, but strove to keep calm and state facts clearly.
"It's like this. I'm afraid you'll be rather savage, but I can't talk now. Tom and I had a yarn when you'd gone to bed, and he was awfully keen to spend the night in the Grey Room."
"I did not wish it."
"I know—we were wrong—but we were both death on it, and we tossed up, and he won."
