I reflected a few moments. One is not very ready to prescribe sleeping
draughts for unknown patients, but still, insomnia is a very distressing
condition. In the end, I temporised with a moderate dose of bromide,
deciding to call and see if more energetic measures were necessary.

"He had better take a dose of this at once, Miss Oman," said I, as I
handed her the bottle, "and I will look in later and see how he is."

"I expect he will be glad to see you," she answered, "for he is all
alone to-night and very dumpy. Miss Bellingham is out. But I must remind
you that he's a poor man and pays his way. You must excuse my mentioning
it."

"I am much obliged to you for the hint, Miss Oman," I rejoined. "It
isn't necessary for me to see him, but I should like just to look in and
have a chat."

"Yes, it will do him good. You have your points, though punctuality
doesn't seem to be one of them," and with this parting shot Miss Oman
bustled away.

Half-past eight found me ascending the great, dim staircase of the house
in Nevill's Court preceded by Miss Oman, by whom I was ushered into the
room. Mr. Bellingham, who had just finished some sort of meal, was
sitting hunched up in his chair gazing gloomily into the empty grate. He
brightened up as I entered, but was evidently in very low spirits.

"I didn't mean to drag you out after your day's work was finished," he
said, "though I am very glad to see you."