I found myself lying awake, in a great heat and
breathlessness.

And then I was aware of an actual sound--a sound which no doubt had
entered into my dreams as the clash of arms. It was a soft and
regular tapping, a ghostly sound to hear at dead of night, and like
to scare a boy of quick imagination. I lay for some moments in a
state bordering on panic, unable to think, much less to act.

Tap, tap, tap--so it went on, like the ticking of the great clock
on the stairs, only louder and more substantial. It ceased, and I
held my breath, wondering whether I should hear it again. Then it
recommenced, and I was about to spring from my bed and run to tell
Mistress Pennyquick when a sudden thought held me: What would
Captain Galsworthy think if he knew I had fled from a sound? Would
he regard me as the right stuff of which to make a man?

The captain's good opinion was worth so much to me now that I
crushed down my fears and sat up in bed (yet keeping a tight clutch
upon the blanket), and tried to use my reason.

The tapping, I reflected, must be caused by some person or thing. A
ghost is a spirit, and insubstantial, and I had never heard that
the ghost which some of the townsfolk (chiefly servant maids) had
seen in St. Alkmund's Churchyard had done more at any time than
glide silently among the tombs. And even as I decided that the
sound must have a natural cause, I had startling confirmation of my
conclusion in a new sound--nothing else than a sneeze, sudden, and
short, and stifled. The tapping ceased, and while I was still
trying to collect my wits I heard a groan, and immediately
afterwards a voice calling my name, and then a new tapping, only
quicker.

It was now clear to me that some one was at my window, though,
seeing that my room was some twenty feet above the ground, I was at
a loss to imagine how the tapper had mounted there.

My fears now being merged in surprise, I got out of bed, stole to
the window, and pulled the blind an inch aside.

"Master Bold! Master Bold!" came the voice again, and, venturing a
little more, I put my head between the blind and the window, and
saw a dark form against the clear summer sky.

"Master Bold, 'tis me, Joe Punchard," said the voice in a whisper.
"Canst let me in, lad, without making a noise?"

Without more ado I lifted the sash gradually, for it was heavy and
creaked, and I feared to rouse the household. When it was high
enough for Joe's bulky form to pass through he cla