"Yes, you may as well. He's quite happy."
Tumpany went away.
Gilbert rose from bed, the bottle in his hand, and looked round for a hiding-place. The wardrobe! That would do. He put it in one of the big inside pockets of a shooting-coat which was hanging there and carefully closed the door.
As he did so, he caught sight of his face in the panel-mirror. It was sly and unpleasant. Something horrible seemed to be peeping out.
He shook his head and a slight blush came to his cheeks.
The eyes under the bandaged brow, the smirk upon the clear-cut mouth. . . . "Beastly!" he said aloud, as if speaking of some one else—as indeed he really was, had he but realised it.
Now he would sleep, to be fresh for the night. Bromide—always a good friend, though not so certain in its action as in the past—Ammonium Bromide should paralyse his racing brain to sleep.
He dissolved five tablets in a little water and drank the mixture.
When Mary came noiselessly into the room, three hours later, he was sleeping calmly. One arm was round the Dog Trust, who was sleeping too.
Her husband looked strangely youthful and innocent. A faint smile hung about his lips and her whole heart went out to him as he slept.