t moment I had a thought which was like an inspiration. If I was
influenced in such a manner by the smell, might it not be that the sick
man, who lived half his life or more in the atmosphere, had gradually
and by slow but sure process taken into his system something which had
permeated him to such degree that it had a new power derived from
quantity--or strength--or...
I was becoming lost again in a reverie. This would not do. I must
take such precaution that I could remain awake, or free from such
entrancing thought. I had had but half a night's sleep last night; and
this night I must remain awake. Without stating my intention, for I
feared that I might add to the trouble and uneasiness of Miss Trelawny,
I went downstairs and out of the house. I soon found a chemist's shop,
and came away with a respirator. When I got back, it was ten o'clock;
the Doctor was going for the night. The Nurse came with him to the
door of the sick-room, taking her last instructions. Miss Trelawny sat
still beside the bed. Sergeant Daw, who had entered as the Doctor went
out, was some little distance off.
When Nurse Kennedy joined us, we arranged that she should sit up till
two o'clock, when Miss Trelawny would relieve her. Thus, in accordance
with Mr. Trelawny's instructions, there would always be a man and a
woman in the room; and each one of us would overlap, so that at no time
would a new set of watchers come on duty without some one to tell of
what--if anything--had occurred. I lay down on a sofa in my own room,
having arranged that one of the servants should call me a little before
twelve. In a few moments I was asleep.
When I was waked, it took me several seconds to get back my thoughts so
as to recognise my own identity and surroundings. The short sleep had,
however, done me good, and I could look on things around me in a more
practical light than I had been able to do earlier in the evening. I
bathed my face, and thus refreshed went into the sick-room. I moved
very softly. The Nurse was sitting by the bed, quiet and alert; the
Detective sat in an arm-chair across the room in deep shadow. He did
not move when I crossed, until I got close to him, when he said in a
dull whisper:
"It is all right; I have not been asleep!" An unnecessary thing to
say, I thought--it always is, unless it be untrue in spirit. When I
told him that his watch was over; that he might go to bed till I should
call him at six o'clock, h
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