“Yes; just a repetition of your bit of experience, lad.”
“But didn’t you jump out of bed and follow?”
“Don’t I tell you I was asleep? Of course it wasn’t real. The peculiar state of mind I was in, from going off instead of keeping awake to shut the window when the room grew cool, set me dreaming it all, I suppose; and, after what seemed to be a very long time, made me wake up in a tremendous perspiration and spring off the bed to fasten the window.”
“It’s very queer,” said Dick. “Now, do you know, I—”
“Yes, you told me,” said Wyatt, interrupting him hastily; “only that isn’t all. I went back and sat on the edge of the charpoy, feeling regularly puzzled. I was still half asleep, and there seemed to be no doubt about my having dreamed it all, but I couldn’t settle it all in my mind, and before lying down I felt obliged to go across the room and see if the door was shut.”
“Yes,” said Dick eagerly; “and of course it was?”
“No,” said Wyatt; “it was open.”
“You left it open when you went to bed for coolness.”
“I could swear I did not,” said Wyatt. “It stuck a little, warped by the heat, and I remember perfectly lifting it to get it close.”
Dick was silent.