“That strange man,” said Guy, “has got the room opposite me.”
We decided that this would be dull for Guy, for we had often seen these strange old men before and knew that they had no interest to offer, except the dull curiosity of asking why they had come to Oxford. And they were nearly always ready to tell their story of miserly saving and the thirst for knowledge. Therefore when, a fortnight later, Guy began to talk of him again, I was considerably surprised.
“You know, he leads an incredible life; my scout told me that he has never been out to a meal or had a single man in to see him. He doesn’t know one of the other freshers and can’t find his way about Oxford. He’s never heard of half the Colleges. I think I shall go in and talk to him one evening. Come up with me.”
So one evening at about half past ten, Guy and I went across to this strange man’s room. We knocked, and getting no answer, opened the door. The room was in darkness, and we were about to go, when Guy said: “Let’s have a look at his room.”
I turned on his light and then gave a gasp of astonishment. The little man was sitting in his arm chair with his hands in his lap looking straight at us. We began to apologize, but he interrupted us.
“What do you want? I do not wish to be disturbed.”
“Our names are Guy Legge and Barnes,” I said, “we just came in to see you, but if you’re busy —” I was strangely discomforted by this man and had not yet recovered from the shock of finding him sitting there in the dark.
“It was unnecessary to come and see me. I don’t want to know you Barnes, or you Legge, or anyone else.”
And outside the door I said, “Well I’m damned. Of all the abominable men —”
But Guy took me by the arm and said, “Dick, that man scared me.”
So it began.
A few nights later I was engrossed in an essay when I heard someone beating on my oak.
“Go away, I’m busy.”
“It’s I, Guy. May I come in?”
“Oh, it’s you. Well do you mind awfully if I work tonight? I’ve got to get this essay done by eleven tomorrow.”
“Let me in, Dick. I won’t disturb you. I only wanted to know if I could come in and read in here.”
So I opened the oak and when he came into the light I saw that he was looking pale and worried.
“Thanks awfully, Dick. I hope you don’t mind my coming in. I couldn’t work in my room.”
So I returned to my essay and in two hours it was finished. I turned round and saw that Guy was not working. He was just sitting gazing into my fire.
“Well,” I said, “I’ve finished this thing and I’m going to bed.”
He roused himself, “Well, I suppose I must get back,” and then at the door, “You know, Dick, that man next door haunts me. I’ve never met a man who hated me as he does. When we meet on the stairs, he shrinks away and snarls like a beast.”
And I, sleepily, laughed at him and went to bed.
And for the next week or so, Guy came to my room every evening until one Sunday night he said, “Dick, I don’t want to go back, I’m not sleepy. May I read in front of your fire all night?”
I told him not to be a fool; he was looking thoroughly tired. And then he said, “Dick, don’t you understand, I’m afraid of that man next door. He wants to kill me.”
“Guy,” I said, “go to bed and don’t be an ass. You have been working too hard.”
But a quarter of an hour later, I felt that I could not go to bed and leave Guy like this, so I went up to his room. As I passed the strange man’s door, I could not help a little qualm of fear. I knocked at Guy’s bedroom door and inside I heard a little cry of terror and the sound of bare feet. I turned the handle, but the door was locked and I could hear Guy’s breathing through the door; he must have been pressed against it on the other side.
“D’you always lock your bedder door?” I asked, and at the sound of my voice, I heard him sigh with relief.
“Hullo, Dick. You quite startled me. What do you want?”
So I went in and talked to him; he always slept with his door locked now, and his light on; he was very much scared but after a few minutes he became calmer and soon I went away, but behind me I heard him lock his door.
Next day he avoided me until evening; then he came in again and asked if he might work. I said:
“Look here, Guy, tell me what is the matter with you.” And almost immediately I wished that I had not asked him, because he poured out his answers so eagerly.
“Dick, you can’t think what I’ve been through in the last ten days. I’m living up there alone with only a door between me and a madman. He hates me, Dick, I know it. It is not imagination. Every night he comes and tries at my door and then shuffles off again. I can’t stand it. One night I shall forget and then God knows what that man will do to me.”
So it went on and one day I went up to Guy’s room in the morning. He was not there, but his scout was, and I found him in the act of taking the key from Guy’s bedroom door. I knew I had no right to ask him, but I said:
“Hullo, Ramsey, what are you doing with Mr. Legge’s key?”
Ramsey showed, as only a scout can show, that I had been guilty of a gross breach of good manners and answered me:
“The gentleman next door wanted it, sir. He has lost his and wanted to see if it would fit.”
“Did Mr. Legge say that you could take it?”
“No, sir. I did not think it necessary to ask him.”
“Then put it back at once and don’t touch things in his room whatever the gentleman next door says.”
I had no right to say this to Guy’s scout, but I was definitely frightened. A sudden realization had come to me that Guy might have some reason for his fear. That evening I went up to see him and we decided to work in his room. He did not mind if I were with him.
“But shut the oak, Dick,” he said.
We worked until eleven o’clock and then we both sat up listening; someone was fumbling against the oak; then he knocked quietly.
Guy had started up white and panting.
“You see, I haven’t been lying. He’s coming at me. Keep him off, Dick, for God’s sake.”
The knocking was repeated.
“Guy,” I said, “I’m going to open that oak. Brace up, man, we two can look after ourselves against anyone. Don’t you see? We’ve got to open that oak.”
“Dick, for God’s sake don’t. I can’t stand it,” but I went towards the door. I opened it and there was only the oak between us and the man beyond. Suddenly Guy’s face became twisted with hatred and his voice harsh. “So you’re in it, too. You’re going to betray me to that fiend. He’s bought you as he has bought Ramsey. There’s not a man in the College he hasn’t bought or bullied into it and I can’t fight the lot,” his voice suddenly fell to a tone of blind despair and he rushed into his bedroom, slamming the door. I hesitated between the two doors and then, picking up a heavy candlestick, opened the oak.
On the threshold, blinking in the light, was the strange man.
“So you’re here, too, Barnes,” he said slowly; “but that is excellent. What I wish to say is for you as well as Legge. I want to apologize for being so rude that evening when you two came up to see me. I was very nervous. But where is Legge?”
And from the bedroom came a sound of hysterical sobbing, the wild, hideous sobbing of a mad man.
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