I sighed inwardly even as I went again about the business of straightening him and the bed.
“There isn’t another on the floor, Mr. Gastin,” I said quietly. “And anyway we can’t move you in the middle of the night.”
“But I insist upon being moved,” he said, with an odd mixture of childish pettishness and adult command. What would be the result if the world at large knew these important business men as we know them! Big babies, they are, most of them!
“This room is exactly like any other room,” I said.
“I don’t like it!” he reiterated. “There’s—there’s noises.” His eyes roved about the room uneasily. “There’s noises! Sounds like whispering.”
I’ll not deny that these extraordinary words stirred my hair at its roots.
“Non—sense!” I brought out jerkily. “Nonsense! You are nervous.”
He was regarding me with shrewd little eyes. I stared back at him, trying to appear steady and at ease, but it was no use. He raised his hand to point a square forefinger at me, shaking it emphatically in my face.
“I’ll bet you ten dollars—I’ll bet you a hundred dollars, right there in my pants pocket, that this is the room!”
Fascinated, I kept my eyes on the square finger. He did not need to say what room, for I knew well what he meant. I moistened my lips.