"No, sir, I am not."

"Thank you, Smedley. Good night."

"Good night, sir, and thank you."

I had obtained no light from Alexis, and I sought in vain for an
explanation of my patient's condition. Of course, it was plausible
enough to argue that his passion for Rosa was at the root of the evil;
but I remembered Rosa's words to me in the carriage, and I was
disposed to agree with them. To me, as to her, it seemed that, though
Alresca was the sort of man to love deeply, he was not the sort of man
to allow an attachment, however profound or unfortunate, to make a
wreck of his existence. No. If Alresca was dying, he was not dying of
love.

As Alexis had remarked, it was a lovely summer night, and after
quitting the Devonshire I stood idly on the pavement, and gazed about
me in simple enjoyment of the scene.

The finest trees in Hyde Park towered darkly in front of me, and above
them was spread the star-strewn sky, with a gibbous moon just showing
over the housetops to the left. I could not see a soul, but faintly
from the distance came the tramp of a policeman on his beat. The
hour, to my busy fancy, seemed full of fate. But it was favorable to
meditation, and I thought, and thought, and thought. Was I at the
beginning of an adventure, or would the business, so strangely
initiated, resolve itself into something prosaic and mediocre? I had a
suspicion--indeed, I had a hope--that adventures were in store for me.