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THE BLUE ROOM usual hour, about midnight I was wakened by the stress and the cry of it. In the bright moonlight, wind-swung branches tossed and swayed eerily across the blinds; there was rumbling in chimneys, whistling in keyholes, and everywhere a clamour and a call. Sleep was out of the question, and, sitting up in bed, I looked round. Edward sat up too. 'I was wondering when you were going to wake,' he said. 'It's no good trying to sleep through this. I vote we get up and do something.'

'I'm game,' I replied. 'Let's play at being in a ship at sea' (the plaint of the old house under the buffeting wind suggested this, naturally); 'and we can be wrecked on an island, or left on a raft, whichever you choose; but I like an island best myself, because there's more things on it.'

Edward on reflection negatived the idea. 'It would make too much noise,' he pointed out. 'There's no fun playing at ships, unless you can make a jolly good row.'

The door creaked, and a small figure in white slipped cautiously in. 'Thought I heard you 211