For a time, since no conclusion could satisfy both, they abandoned the centre of contention and debated, as their elders had done, on the general question.Henry declared himself not wholly convinced.He adopted anagnostic attitude, while Tom frankly disbelieved.The one preserved an open mind, the other scoffed at apparitions in general.
"It's humbug to say sailors are superstitious now," he asserted."They might have been, but my experience is that they are no more credulous than other people in these days.Anyway, I'm not.Life is a matter of chemistry.There's no mumbo jumbo about it, in my opinion.Chemical analysis has reached down to hormones and enzymes and all manner of subtle secretions discovered by this generation of inquirers; but it's all organic.Nobody has ever found anything that isn't.Existence depends on matter, and when the chemical process breaks down, the organism perishes and leaves nothing.When a man can't go on breathing, he's dead, and there's an end of him."But Henry had read modern science also.
"What about the vital spark, then? Biologists don't turn down the theory of vitalism, do they?""Most of them do, who count, my dear chap.The presence of a vital spark-a spark that cannot be put out - is merely a theory with nothing to prove it.When he dies, the animating principle doesn't leave a man, and go off on its own.It dies too.It was part of the man-as much as his heart or brain.""That's only an opinion.Nobody can be positive.We don't know anything about what life really means, and we haven't got the machinery to find out.""By analogy we can," argued Tom."Where are you going to draw the line? Life is life, and a sponge is just as much alive as a herring; a nettle is just as much alive as an oak-tree; and an oak-tree is just as much alive as you are.What becomes of its vital spark when you eat an oyster?""You wouldn't believe in a life after death at all, then?""It's a pure assumption, Henry.I'd like to believe in it - who wouldn't? Because, if you honestly did, it would transform this life into something infinitely different from what it is.""It ought to-yet it doesn't seem to."
"It ought to, certainly.If you believe this life is only the portal toanother of much greater importance, then-well, there you are.Nothing matters but trying to make everybody else believe t, too.But as a matter of fact, the people who do believe it, or think they do, seem to me just as concentrated on this life and just as much out to get the very best they can from it, and wring it dry, as I am, who reckon it's all.""They believe as a matter of course, and don't seem to realize how much their belief ought to imply," confessed Henry.
"Why do they believe? Because most of them haven't really thought about it more than a turnip thinks.They dwell in a foggy sort of way on the future life when they go to church on Sundays; then they return home and forget all about it till next Sunday."Lennox brought him back to the present difference.
"Well, seeing you laugh at ghosts, and I remain doubtful, it's only fair that I sleep in the Grey Room.You must see that.Ghosts hate people who don't believe in them.They'd cold shoulder you; but in my case they might feel I was good material, worth convincing.They might show up for me in a friendly spirit.If they show for you, it will probably be to bully you."Tom laughed.
"That's what I want.I'd like to have it out and talk sense to a spook, and show him what an ass he's making of himself.The governor was right about that.When Fayre-Michell asked if he believed in them loafing about a place where they'd been murdered or otherwise maltreated, he rejected the idea.""Yet a woman certainly died there, and without a shadow of reason." "She probably died for a very good reason, only we don't happen toknow it."
Henry tried a different argument.
"You're married, and you matter; I'm not married, and don't matter to anybody.""Humbug!"
"Mary wouldn't like it, anyway; you know that.""True-she'd hate it.But she won't know anything about it till to- morrow.She always sleeps in her old nursery when she comes here, andI'm down the corridor at the far end.She'd have a fit if she knew I'd turned in next door to her and was snoozing in the Grey Room; but she won't know till I tell her of my rash act to-morrow.Don't think I'm a fool.Nobody loves life better than I do, and nobody has better reason to.But I'm positive that this is all rank nonsense, and so are you really.We know there's nothing in the room with a shadow of supernatural danger about it.Besides, you wouldn't want to sleep there so badly if you believed anything wicked was waiting for you.You're tons cleverer than I am - so you must agree about that."Lennox was bound to confess that he entertained no personal fear.They still argued, and the clock struck midnight.Then the sailor made a suggestion.
"Since you're so infernally obstinate, I'll do this.We'll toss up, and the winner can have the fun.That's fair to both."The other agreed; he tossed a coin, and May called "tails," and won.
He was jubilant, while Henry showed a measure of annoyance.The other consoled him.
"It's better so, old man.You're highly strung and nervy, and a poet and all that sort of thing.I'm no better than a prize ox, and don't know what nerves mean.I can sleep anywhere, anyhow.If you can sleep in a submarine, you bet you can in a nice, airy Elizabethan room, even if it is haunted.But it's not; that's the whole point.There's not a haunted room in the world.Get me your service revolver, like a good chap."Henry was silent, and Tom rose to make ready for his vigil.
"I'm dog-tired, anyhow," he said."Nothing less than Queen Elizabeth herself will keep me awake, if it does appear."Then the other surprised him.
