“By jove! you’re right. Where’s the staircase?”
He looked me full in the eyes.
“Don’t you remember seeing a bolted door in a corner of your room? The staircase runs from that door.”
I did remember it, and somehow the memory made me uncomfortable. I said no more and decided not to refer to what had happened that night. It occurred to me that Arthur might have been walking in his sleep.
October 8.—When I went for my walk on Tuesday I dropped in and saw Dr. Lorraine, who is an old friend. He expressed some surprise at my run-down condition and wrote me a prescription.
I am planning to go home next week. How pleasant it will be to walk in my garden and listen to Mrs. O’Brien singing in the kitchen!
October 9.—Perhaps I had better postpone my trip. I casually mentioned it to Arthur this morning.
He was lying relaxed on the sofa, but when I spoke of leaving he sat up as straight as a bolt. His eyes fairly blazed.