He stopped short, looked once around at the gleaming marble of the bank, fumbled for something at his side, and fell senseless on the seat.
I have no recollection of how I got back to the Marathon. I suppose I must have walked; but my first distinct remembrance is of finding myself sitting in my favourite chair, pipe in hand. The pipe was lit, so I suppose I must have lighted it mechanically, and I found that I had also mechanically changed into my lounging-coat. I glanced at my watch and saw that it was nearly four o'clock.
The top of my head was burning as though with fever, and I went into the bathroom and turned the cold water on it. The shock did me a world of good, and by the time I had finished a vigorous toweling I felt immensely better. So I returned to my chair and sat down to review the events of the evening; but I found that somehow my brain refused to work, and black circles began to whirl before my eyes again.
"I told Godfrey I couldn't stand any more of this," I muttered, and stumbled into my bedroom, undressed with difficulty, and turned out the light.
Then, as I lay there, staring up into the darkness, a stinging thought brought me upright.
Godfrey—where was Godfrey? Was he on the track of Crochard? Was he daring a contest with him? Perhaps, even at this moment….
Scarcely knowing what I did, I groped my way to the telephone and asked for Godfrey's number—hoping against hope absurdly—and at last, to my intense surprise and relief, I heard his voice—not a very amiable voice….
"Hello!" he said.
"Godfrey," I began, "it's Lester. He got away."
"Of course he got away. You didn't call me out of bed to tell me that, I hope?"