At last, when ten o'clock struck, Mr. Curtis was thoroughly worn out by feverish excitement, suspense, and annoyances of all kinds; and he retired to rest with the fervent hope of enjoying an uninterrupted slumber till morning. But scarcely had he begun to get drowsy, when a tickling sensation commenced in a thousand parts of his body and limbs; and, to his dismay, he found himself assailed by a perfect legion of those abominable little torturers termed bugs.
Now, Mr. Curtis was most peculiarly sensitive in this respect; and if there were ever a flea or a bug in a bed, it was certain to find him out—aye, and feast upon him too. But never, in the whole course of his life, had he experienced such an attack as on the present occasion: never till now had he known bugs so numerous, nor bites so pungent.
At length he jumped up in rage and agony, and lighted a candle. But vain was all search: not a bug could he find. The legion appeared to have suddenly disappeared. Like Destiny, they were always to be felt, but never seen. He could not sleep with a light in the room; so, having extinguished it, he laid himself down once more.
For a few minutes he was suffered to remain quiet enough; but at last, back came his tormentors by slow degrees; and scarcely had he torn the skin off one part of his body, than he was compelled to flay another. In this manner hour after hour passed; and, when he did at length fall asleep between one and two in the morning, he was pursued by a legion of bugs and sheriff's-officers in his dreams.
CHAPTER CIV.
THE VISIT.—THE HABEAS CORPUS.
Frank awoke at seven o'clock, depressed in spirits and unrefreshed in body. His head still ached; and he was sore all over through having nearly torn himself to pieces on account of the bugs. His face betrayed marks of the ravages committed upon him by his little tormentors; and his eyes were swollen from the same cause. He had not even the comfort of copious ablutions; for the process of the toilette was not more satisfactory on this occasion than it had been on the previous day. Thus all circumstances conspired to make him wretched.
Before he sate down to breakfast, he despatched a messenger to Baker Street for a few necessaries which he required; and, as he did not choose to write to his wife, and knew not whether O'Blunderbuss might still be there, he sent a verbal intimation of his wishes.
The breakfast of this morning was no improvement on its predecessor: indeed, it struck Curtis that he had got from bad to worse by trying the desperate experiment of ordering coffee instead of tea. He, however, knew that it was useless to grumble; and so, having disposed of the meal as best he could, he sent for the morning paper, with which he whiled away an hour and a half until the return of his messenger, who came laden with a portmanteau.
"Well, who did you see in Baker Street?" demanded Frank.
"Please, sir, I see Mr. Proggs and t'other man which is in possession," was the answer.