The rushing noise in his ears
grew more intolerable. There was a swift upgrowth of the hedgerows, a
sudden vision of cows and horses, and of people running across fields.
Then a heavy bump, and Josiah, opening his eyes, found himself lying on
the floor in the room in King Street.
On the table were an empty claret bottle and two tumblers. The room was
full of the smoke, now growing stale, of cigars. Josiah was shivering
with cold, and the room was dark save from what light flickered in from
the lamp down the street. He struck a light, and there in its accustomed
place on the mantelpiece was his watch, the hands pointing to three
o'clock. Dazed and shivering he crept into bed, where he thought the
matter over, and amid much that was bewildering groped his way to the
conclusion that Captain Mulberry really had come into his room, had
spent an hour with him, smoked cigars, drunk claret, and then gone off.
He remembered standing at the head of the stairs shaking hands with him,
and promising to dine with him at his club one day in the following
week. Then he had gone back and lain on the couch, where, overcome with
the unaccustomed tumbler of claret and dazed with the tobacco smoke, he
had fallen asleep, dreamed, and rolled off on to the floor.
HENRY W. LUCY.
NUMBER 7639.
CHAPTER I.
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