"Well, if you will leave me to eat my last bachelor supper alone. But I should have had to clear out myself just after. Got to have a word with Aunt Angela—she let's me call her that now."
He moved towards the door.
"Where are you going?" I asked.
"To call Jane," he replied. "Bell's busted now—time I cleared out of here—whole place is coming to pieces.... Jane! Ja—ne!" he shouted down the well of the stairs.
Then as Jane didn't hear he descended to the floor below.
His old red woollen bell-rope lay in a heap on the floor. That also had happened as a result of my studies in the British Museum. I busied myself with it.... By the time he had returned I had made it quite ready and was gazing thoughtfully into his fireplace.
I went downstairs with Jane, who herself closed the door behind me. I gave her a very express good-night.
The remainder of that evening I can divide into four distinct stages, and I will adopt that course, taking them numerically.
The first stage was one of an almost overwhelming lassitude. I had an hour and a half and more to kill, and this lassitude came upon me suddenly as I walked slowly in the direction of Cheapside. I was in its power before I recognised its dangers. The man of action had suddenly sunk into abeyance with me, and, now that all was ready, all interest in my job had departed from me. The drudgery of actual performance was all at once beyond my powers. I could have gone on planning—I wished there had been more to plan—but now to carry out....