“Needham, Ho, Needham!”
Again they listened, and again nothing happened. As he groped in the darkness, Norton’s hand encountered the electric switch and he turned on the light. A narrow stairway was revealed, leading overhead.
“Just wait a minute,” he said to Meldrum, “and I’ll run upstairs. I’m sure he’s there.”
He disappeared swiftly, and, after an interval of a few moments, came quietly down again.
“Come up,” he said, beckoning to his friend. “He is sound asleep in his chair. Come and look.”
II.
TOGETHER they crept up. The room door was ajar, and they noiselessly entered what was evidently a sitting-room. Needham sat in a large armchair, with his back to the window, sleeping quietly. A reading lamp on the table was the sole source of illumination, and, since it was fitted with a heavy red shade, the upper portion of the chamber was in comparative darkness.
The full light of the lamp, however, fell upon the form of the sleeping man, who had sunk low in his chair and was indeed in an extraordinary attitude. His book had fallen to the floor, and his long arms hung over the sides of the chair, the hands resting palm upwards on the rug. His huge thighs sloped upward from the depths of the chair to the point made by his knees, and his long shins disappeared below the table.
Norton glanced at Meldrum, who was looking at the sleeper curiously.
“Ho, Needham!” said Norton, loudly. “Wake up!”