more effect upon him than the scent of, say,
_eau de Cologne_ would have had. That night in Warwick Gardens, it had
been like the touch of some evil magician's wand. Then, in an instant,
it had transformed his whole nature; but now his brain remained cool and
calm, and his senses absolutely unmoved. Yes, he had conquered. He
needed a stimulant, merely as an invalid might need a tonic, and he
could take it with just as much safety.

He took the decanter into his bedroom and poured a couple of
teaspoonsful into his coffee, stirred it, lifted the cup, and, after one
single priceless moment's hesitation, put it to his lips and drank it
off.

"Ah, that's better!" he said, as he put the cup down and felt the subtle
glow run like lightning through his veins. "Hallo, who's that? Confound
it, I hope it isn't Ernshaw. I don't want to begin the day with a
lecture on backsliding."

He put the stopper back, went into the sitting-room, and replaced the
decanter in the stand before he said in answer to a knock at his door:

"Come in! Is that you Ernshaw?"

The door opened, and Reginald Garthorne came in.

"No, it's me. That's not quite grammatical, I believe, but it's usual.
Good-morning, Maxwell," he went on, holding out his hand. "I've come
round early for two reasons. In the first place I want to be the first
to congratulate you, and in the second place I want you to give me a
brandy and soda. I got here rather late last night with one or two other
Cambridge men, and one of them took us to a man's rooms in Brazenose,
and we had a rather wet night of it. Not the proper thing, of course,
but excusable just now."

"As for the congratulations, old man," said Maxwell, "thanks for yours
and accept mine for what you've done in the Tripos, and as for the
brandy and soda, well, here you are. Open that cupboard, and you'll find
some soda and glasses."

As he said this, he unlocked the spirit case again, and put the brandy
decanter on the table.

"I've just been having a spoonful myself in my coffee," he went on, with
just a little flash of wonder why he should have said this. "The fact
is, I suppose, I've been overdoing it a bit lately, and that, and the
anxiety of the thing, has rather knocked me up. I felt as nervous as a
freshman going in for his first _viva voce_, when I got up this
morning."

"I don't wonder at it," said Garthorne, helping himself. "You must have
been grinding infernally hard. So have I, for the matter of t