ome things simply do not happen. From this extravagant
summit of horror, his fears gradually receded. Such a waking nightmare
even quieted his nerves when it was past; for if a possibility presents
a ludicrous side, then its horror must diminish by so much. Moreover,
Henry told himself that if the threat of a disaster so absolute could
really be felt by him, it was his duty to rise at once, intervene, and,
if necessary, summon his uncle and force May to leave the Grey Room
immediately.

This idea amused him again and offered another jest. The tragedy really
resolved into jests. He found himself smiling at the picture of May
being treated like a disobedient schoolboy. But if that happened, and
Tom was proclaimed the sinner, what must be Henry's own fate? To win
the reputation of an unsportsmanlike sneak in Mary's opinion as well as
Tom's. He certainly could call upon nobody to help him now. But he
might go and look up May himself. That would be very sharply resented,
however. He travelled round and round in circles, then asked himself
what he would do and say to-morrow if anything happened to Tom--nothing,
of course, fatal, but something perhaps so grave that May himself would
be unable to explain it. In that case Henry could only state facts
exactly as they had occurred. But there would be a deuce of a muddle
if he had to make statements and describe the exact sequence of recent
incidents. Already he forgot the exact sequence. It seemed ages since he
parted from May. He broke off there, rose, drank a glass of water,
and lighted a cigarette. He shook himself into wakefulness, condemned
himself for this debauch of weak-minded thinking, found the time to be
three o'clock, and brushed the whole cobweb tangle from his mind. He
knew that sudden warmth after cold will often induce sleep--a fact
proved by incidents of his campaigns--so he trudged up and down and
opened his window and let the cool breath of the night chill his
forehead and breast for five minutes.

This action calmed him, and he headed himself off from returning to the
subject. He felt that mental dread and discomfort were only waiting to
break out again; but he smothered them, returned to bed, and succeeded
in keeping his mind on neutral-tinted matter until he fell asleep.

He woke again before he was called, rose and went to his bath. He
took it cold, and it refreshed him and cleared his head, for he had a
headache. Everything was changed, and the phantoms o