He wasn't! I wheeled round from the looking-glass to him. There was
nothingl I was alone, with the flaring candles and a staggering mind.
What had happened? Had anything happened? Had I been dreaming? . . .
And then, with an absurd note of finality about it, the clock upon
the landing discovered the moment was ripe for striking ONE. So!--Ping!
And I was as grave and sober as a judge, with all my champagne and
whisky gone into the vast serene. Feeling queer, you know--confoundedly
QUEER! Queer! Good Lord!"

He regarded his cigar-ash for a moment. "That's all that happened," he
said.

"And then you went to bed?" asked Evans.

"What else was there to do?"

I looked Wish in the eye. We wanted to scoff, and there was something,
something perhaps in Clayton's voice and manner, that hampered our
desire.

"And about these passes?" said Sanderson.

"I believe I could do them now."

"Oh!" said Sanderson, and produced a penknife and set himself to grub
the dottel out of the bowl of his clay.

"Why don't you do them now?" said Sanderson, shutting his pen-knife
with a click.