Indeed, to look for any one, he felt sure was needless, for he had opened his chamber-door almost simultaneously with the last knock for admission.
"It is strange," he said, as he lingered on the threshold of his room door for some moments; "my imagination could not so completely deceive me.

There was most certainly a demand for admission." Slowly, then, he returned to his room again, and closed the door behind him.
"One thing is evident," he said, "that if I am in this apartment to be subjected to these annoyances, I shall get no rest, which will soon exhaust me." This thought was a very provoking one, and the more he thought that he should ultimately find a necessity for giving up that chamber he had himself asked as a special favour to be allowed to occupy, the more vexed he became to think what construction might be put upon his conduct for so doing.
"They will all fancy me a coward," he thought, "and that I dare not sleep here.

They may not, of course, say so, but they will think that my appearing so bold was one of those acts of bravado which I have not courage to carry fairly out." Taking this view of the matter was just the way to enlist a young man's pride in staying, under all circumstances, where he was, and, with a slight accession of colour, which, even although he was alone, would visit his cheeks, Charles Holland said aloud,-- "I will remain the occupant of this room come what may, happen what may.
No terrors, real or unsubstantial, shall drive me from it: I will brave them all, and remain here to brave them." Tap came the knock at the door again, and now, with more an air of vexation than fear, Charles turned again towards it, and listened.

Tap in another minute again succeeded, and much annoyed, he walked close to the door, and laid his hand upon the lock, ready to open it at the precise moment of another demand for admission being made.
He had not to wait long.

In about half a minute it came again, and, simultaneously with the sound, the door flew open.