erceiving it, and with a warning finger she preceded him into the great
bedroom. 'Oh, yes, yes,' he was whispering to himself; 'alone--well,
well!' He hung his hat on his umbrella and leaned it in a corner, and
then he turned.

'I don't think, you know, an old friend does him any wrong; but last
night I had no real oppor--' He firmly adjusted his spectacles, and
looked long into the dark, dispassioned face.

'H'm!' he said, and fidgeted, and peered again. Mrs Lawford watched him
keenly.

'Do you still--' she began.

But at the same moment he too broke silence, suddenly stepping back with
the innocent remark, 'Has he--has he asked for anything?'

'Only for Quain.'

'"Quain"?'

'The medical Dictionary.'

'Oh, yes; bless me; of course.... A calm, complete sleep of utter
prostration--utter nervous prostration. And can one wonder? Poor fellow,
poor fellow!' He walked to the window and peered between the blinds.
'Sparrows, sunshine--yes, and here's the postman,' he said, as if to
himself. Then he turned sharply round, with mind made up.

'Now, do you leave me here,' he said. 'Take half an hour's quiet rest.
He will be glad of a dull old fellow like me when he wakes. And as for
my pretty bride, if I miss the train, she must wait till the next.
Good discipline, my dear. Oh, dear me! I don't change. What a precious
experience now this would have been for a tottery, talkative, owlish
old parochial creature like me. But there, there. Light words make heavy
hearts, I see. I shall be quite comfortable. No, no, I breakfasted at
home. There's hat and umbrella; at 9.3 I can fly.'

Mrs Lawford thanked him mutely. He smilingly but firmly bowed her out
and closed the door.

But eyes and brain had been very busy. He had looked at the gutted
candle; at the tinted bland portrait on the dressing-table; at the chair
drawn-up; at the boots; and now again he turned almost with a groan
towards the sleeper. Then he took out an envelope, on which he had
jotted various memoranda, and waited awhile. Minutes passed and at last
the sleeper faintly stirred, muttering.

Mr Bethany stooped quickly. 'What is it, what is it?' he whispered.

Lawford sighed. 'I was only dreaming, Sheila,' he said, and softly,
peacefully opened his eyes. 'I dreamed I was in the--, His lids
narrowed, his dark eyes fixed themselves on the anxious spectacled face
bending over him. 'Mr Bethany! Where? What's wrong?'

His friend put out his hand. 'There, there,' h