He struck a light—he had a match-box in his hand—and went to my candle without a word. In a moment the room was faintly illuminated.
“Do you mean to say that you hadn’t a light here just now—a red light?” he cried.
“I had no light: a red light floated through the room, but it seemed to come from outside,” said I.
“And who was it laughed in that wild way?”
“I took it for granted that it was you and Tom who were about your usual larks.”
“Larks! No, I was about no larks, I can promise you. Good Lord! man, that laugh was something beyond a lark.” He seated himself on my bed. “Do you fancy it may have been some of the servants going about the stables with a carriage-lamp?” he continued. “There may have been a late arrival at the hotel, you know.”
“That’s not at all unlikely,” said I. “Yes, it may have been that, and the laughter may have been between the grooms.”
“I don’t hear any sound of bustle through the house or outside,” said he.
“The stables are not at this angle of the building,” said I. “We must merely have seen the light and heard that laughter as the carriage passed our angle. Anyhow, we’ll only catch cold if we lounge about in our pyjamas like this. You’d best get back to bed and let me do the same.”
“I don’t feel much inclined to sleep, but I’ll not prevent your having your night’s rest,” said he, rising. “I wonder is it near morning?”