He walked with a steady step across the room, and the waiter, who had hovered around, prepared to turn out the lights.
"Good-night, Jenkins," said Leicester, as the man opened the door.
"Good-night, sir."
"Every one gone to bed except you?"
"Nearly every one, sir."
"Then I'll leave it to you to arrange for my bath in the morning. Half-past nine will do."
"Yes, sir. Hot or cold?"
A cold blast of air came along the passage. He was about to say "Cold," but he changed his mind.
"Hot, Jenkins," he said. "Good-night."
When he got to his bedroom and turned on the lights he looked at the mirror, long and steadily.