empty and in the utmost disorder, but from the direction of the
principal bedroom came a most horrible mumbling and gurgling sound--a
sound utterly indescribable. For one instant we hesitated at the
threshold--hesitated to face the horror beyond; then almost side by
side we came into the bedroom....

Only one of the two lamps was alight--that above the bed; and on the
bed a man lay writhing. He was incredibly gaunt, so that the suit of
tropical twill which he wore hung upon him in folds, showing if such
evidence were necessary, how terribly he was fallen away from his
constitutional habit. He wore a beard of at least ten days' growth,
which served to accentuate the cavitous hollowness of his face. His
eyes seemed starting from their sockets as he lay upon his back
uttering inarticulate sounds and plucking with skinny fingers at his
lips.

Smith bent forward peering into the wasted face; and then started back
with a suppressed cry.

"Merciful God! can it be Hale?" he muttered. "What does it mean? what
does it mean?"

I ran to the opposite side of the bed, and placing my arms under the
writhing man, raised him and propped a pillow at his back. He
continued to babble, rolling his eyes from side to side hideously;
then by degrees they seemed to become less glazed, and a light of
returning sanity entered them. They became fixed; and they were fixed
upon Nayland Smith, who bending over the bed, was watching Sir Gregory
(for Sir Gregory I concluded this pitiable wreck to be) with an
expression upon his face compound of many emotions.