Cummings: Not him; far from it. House locked up and household to bed at half past ten. That's his little rule. Not but what I'm glad enough to go as a rule, it's that dreary. Still, when I do go to bed I like to go to sleep.
Bunter: What does he do? Walk about the house?
Cummings: Doesn't he? All night. And in and out of the private door to the hospital.
Bunter: You don't mean to say, Mr. Cummings, a great specialist like Sir Julian Freke does night work at the hospital?
Cummings: No, no; he does his own work — research work, as you may say. Cuts people up. They say he's very clever. Could take you or me to pieces like a clock, Mr. Bunter, and put us together again.
Bunter: Do you sleep in the basement, then, to hear him so plain?
Cummings: No; our bedroom's at the top. But, Lord! what's that? He'll bang the door so you can hear him all over the house.
Bunter: Ah, many's the time I've had to speak to Lord Peter about that. And talking all night. And baths.
Cummings: Baths? You may well say that, Mr. Bunter. Baths? Me and my wife sleep next to the cistern-room. Noise fit to wake the dead. All hours. When d'you think he chose to have a bath, no later than last Monday night, Mr. Bunter?
Bunter: I've known them to do it at two in the morning, Mr. Cummings.