"Confound it!" he said. "I'm sick of that routine: I can see
you laying out my winding-sheet the day of my burial. Leave
those things. Come back in half an hour."

Allsopp allowed himself one glance at his master's figure
huddled in the great bed; then, laying aside the coat he was
holding, he moved to the door. With his: fingers on the
handle he paused.

"Will you breakfast in your own room, sir--or down-stairs?"

Chilcote drew the clothes more tightly round his shoulders.
"Oh, anywhere--nowhere!" he said. "I don't care."

Allsopp softly withdrew.

Left to himself, Chilcote sat up in bed and lifted the salver
to his knees. The sudden movement jarred him physically; he
drew a handkerchief from under the pillow and wiped his
forehead; then he held his hand to the light and studied it.
The hand looked sallow and unsteady. With a nervous gesture
he thrust the salver back upon the table and slid out of bed.

Moving hastily across the room, he stopped before one of the
tall wardrobes and swung the door open; then after a furtive
glance around the room he thrust his hand into the recesses of
a shelf and fumbled there.

The thing he sought was evidently not hard to find. for