expanse of yellow vapour.

"The Doctor's late, sir," said he. "Detained by the fog, I expect. It
must be pretty thick in the Borough."

(I may mention that, to Polton, Thorndyke was The Doctor. Other inferior
creatures there were, indeed, to whom the title of "doctor" in a way,
appertained; but they were of no account in Polton's eyes. Surnames were
good enough for them.)

"Yes, it must be," I replied, "judging by the condition of the Strand."

I entered and ascended the stairs, glad enough of the prospect of a warm
and well-lighted room after my comfortless groping in the murky streets,
and Polton, with a final glance up and down the walk reluctantly
followed.

"You would like some tea, sir, I expect?" said he, as he let me in
(though I had a key of my own now).

I thought I should, and he accordingly set about the preparations in his
deft methodical way, but with an air of abstraction that was unusual
with him.

"The Doctor said he should be home by five," he remarked, as he laid the
tea-pot on the tray.

"Then he is a defaulter," I answered. "We shall have to water his tea."

"A wonderful punctual man, sir, is the Doctor," pursued Polton. "Keeps