fter another evades a
memory which is never too anxious to retain them, and each moment
brings a deeper sense of relief and self-congratulation.

But in Paul's case, curiously enough, as he could not help thinking, the
more completely roused he became, the greater grew his uneasiness.

Perhaps the first indication of the truth was suggested to him by a
lurking suspicion--which he tried to dismiss as mere fancy--that he
filled rather less of the cab than he had always been accustomed to do.

To reassure himself he set his thoughts to review all the proceedings of
that day, feeling that if he could satisfactorily account for the time
up to his taking the cab, that would be conclusive as to the unreality
of any thing that appeared to have happened later in his own house. He
got on well enough till he came to the hour at which he had left the
office, and then, search his memory as he would, he could not remember
hailing any cab!

Could it be another delusion, too, or was it the fact that he had found
himself much pressed for time and had come home by the Underground to
Praed Street? It must have been the day before, but that was Sunday.
Saturday, then? But the recollection seemed too recent and fresh; and
besides, on Saturday, he had left at two, and had taken Barbara to see
Messrs. Maskelyne and Cooke's performance.

Slowly, insidiously, but with irresistible force, the conviction crept
upon him that he had dined, and dined well.

"If I have dined already," he told himself, "I can't be going home to
dinner; and if I am not going home to dinner, what--what am I doing in
this cab?"

The bare idea that something might be wrong with him after all made him
impatient to put an end to all suspense. He must knock this scotched
nightmare once for all on the head by a deliberate appeal to his senses.

The cab had passed the lighted shops now, and was driving between
squares and private houses, so that Mr. Bultitude had to wait until the
sickly rays of a street lamp glanced into the cab for a moment, and, as
they did so, he put his feet up on the opposite seat and examined his
boots and trousers with breathless eagerness.

It was not to be denied; they were not his ordinary boots, nor did he
ever wear such trousers as he saw above them! Always a careful and
punctiliously neat person, he was more than commonly exacting concerning
the make and polish of his boots and the set of his trousers.

These boots were clumsy, square-