That maddened him, so I hastily withdrew.

I had been asleep for at least two hours when a movement by my bedside
and a light in my eyes awakened me. I sat bolt upright in bed,
blinking at Halyard, who, clad in a dressing-gown and wearing a
night-cap, had wheeled himself into my room with one hand, while with
the other he solemnly waved a candle over my head.

"I'm so cursed lonely," he said--"come, there's a good fellow--talk to
me in your own original, impudent way."

I objected strenuously, but he looked so worn and thin, so lonely and
bad-tempered, so lovelessly grotesque, that I got out of bed and
passed a spongeful of cold water over my head.

Then I returned to bed and propped the pillows up for a back-rest,
ready to quarrel with him if it might bring some little pleasure into
his morbid existence.

"No," he said, amiably, "I'm too worried to quarrel, but I'm much
obliged for your kindly offer. I want to tell you something."

"What?" I asked, suspiciously.

"I want to ask you if you ever saw a man with gills like a fish?"

"Gills?" I repeated.

"Yes, gills! Did you?"