An idea came to him.
He opened the bed, drew out one of the sheets and arrayed himself in it, after carefully folding back the quilt.
"Now," he said to himself, "if it is necessary, I will see what sort of a ghost I can make."
Hardly had he done this than he heard steps ascending the stairs. Jasper had little doubt that it was the occupant of the chamber which he had so unceremoniously entered.
"I'll get into the wardrobe if I can," he thought.
He managed to squeeze himself into the wardrobe, and waited with anxiety for the arrival of the new-comer.
Through a crevice he saw the entrance of a stout, good-natured-looking young man, whistling a popular song. He was probably a clerk or young mechanic, who, after a hard day's work, had been to some cheap place of amusement. Wholly unconscious of Jasper's presence, the young man undressed himself, still continuing to whistle, and got into bed. It was so light outside that he had not lighted the gas.
"I wonder how long it'll take for him to get to sleep?" thought Jasper. "I'm getting tired of being cooped up here."
Unfortunately for him the young man seemed to be in no hurry. He whistled to himself, and occasionally sung in a low tone. At length Jasper decided to make a desperate move. Observing that the young man was lying with his face turned from the wardrobe, he seized his opportunity, stepped softly out, and gained the middle of the floor before he was seen.
The effect upon the young man was startling. The whistle died away, and with blanched cheeks and staring eyes he sat bolt upright in bed.