"What's he doing at this time of night?"
"That's what he will ask me to-morrow if he recognized me. There wasn't much light."
"He ought to have been in bed."
"I don't believe dons ever go to bed," I replied. "Give me a match, so that I can get up without breaking my neck."
The next morning Lambert came round while I was at breakfast. He was full of apologies and hopes that the Subby had not recognized me.
"He told me that he sleeps so badly, that he often gets up in the middle of the night and takes a walk," he said, without the slightest regard for truth.
"Then there is no reason why I shouldn't take a run if I like," I replied.
"But you were shouting," he said, as if he wished I had not been.
"I'm a somnambulist, only I somnambulate faster than most people."
"I'm afraid that won't wash," he said, and he started striding up and down my room until he found he was always coming to a wall, and then he stopped in front of the looking-glass, and stared earnestly at himself. "Can't we think of anything better than that?" he asked.