Poor old lady, she seemed to think of the great tenor bell in the old tower as if it were something which could easily be swung by hand.
They did not sit long; and, ill at ease, and asking himself whether he was going to turn into a disingenuous cowardly cur, Vane gladly sought his chamber once more to sit down on the edge of his bed, and ponder over his day’s experience.
“It must have been through leaving out those two wheels,” he muttered, “that made something go off, and start the weight running down as fast as it could. I must speak about it first thing to-morrow morning, or the people will think the place is full of ghosts. Yes, I’ll tell uncle in the morning and he can do what he likes.”
On coming to this resolve Vane undressed and slipped into bed once more, laid his head on the pillow, and composed himself to sleep; but no sleep came, and with his face burning he glided out of bed again, put on a few things, and then stole out of his bedroom into the passage, where he stood hesitating for a few minutes.
“No,” he muttered as he drew a deep breath, “I will not be such a coward;” and, creeping along the passage, he tapped softly on the next bedroom door.
“Eh? Yes. Someone ill?” cried the doctor. “Down directly.”
“No, no, uncle, don’t get up,” cried Vane hoarsely. “I only wanted to tell you something.”
“Tell me something? Well, what is it?”
“I wanted to say that I had been trying to clean the church clock this afternoon, and I left out two of the wheels.”
“What!” roared the doctor. “Hang it all, boy, I think nature must have left out two of your wheels.”