respondence that was overdue. The prospect of a chilly study was not
attractive. And then I noticed a very peculiar sensation.

There is only one thing that I can compare it with. After a day of
exhausting work a glass of champagne produces in me an almost immediate
effect. I feel as if the worries of the day are suddenly removed to a
great and blessed distance. A happy indifference takes their place. I
felt the same effect as I lay in bed on that dreary winter's morning.
The idea that I should get up and work retreated swiftly. A pleasant
sense of languor came over me. My eyes closed and for some time I lay in
a blissful state of peace, such as I had never experienced before so far
as my memory could tell.

I do not know how long I lay in this state, but at length a persistent
noise made me open my eyes. I looked round. It seemed to be full
daylight now. The first thing I noticed was the unusual size of the
room. The ceiling seemed far above my head. The walls seemed to have
receded many feet. In my astonishment I uttered an exclamation. The
result was startling. My voice seemed to reverberate and re-echo as if I
had shouted with all my strength. Considerably startled, I remained in a
sitting posture, gazing at my unfamiliar surroundings. The persistent
noise that had first roused me continued, and for a long time I could
not account for it. It appeared to come from under my bed. I leaned over
the edge, but could see nothing. And then, in a flash, I knew what it
was. It was the sound of my watch, that lay under my pillow.

I drew it out and stared at it in a state of mystification. Each of its
ticks sounded like a small hammer striking sharply against a metal
plate. I held it to my ear and was almost deafened. For a moment I
wondered whether I were not in the throes of some acute nervous
disorder, in which the senses became sharpened to an incredible degree.
Such an exultation of perception could only be due to some powerful
intoxicant at work on my body. Was I going mad? I laid the watch on the
counterpane and in the act of doing it, the explanation burst on my
mind. For the recollection of Mr. Herbert Wain and the Clockdrum
suddenly came to me. I flung aside the bedclothes, ran to the window and
drew the curtains. The radiance of the day almost blinded me. I pressed
my hands to my eyes in a kind of agony, feeling that they had been
seared and destroyed, and dropped on my knees. I remained in this
position for over