He was quite sure that there was no mistake about this, for he
carried a compass on his watch-chain, and he could find the Great
Bear in the evening sky.

So far, so good; but then the spring came, and it was so warm that
it was really pleasant to live in rooms with a northern aspect.
His bedroom joined the sitting-room; he always kept his bedroom
in pitch-black darkness by letting down the Venetian blinds; there
were no Venetian blinds in the sitting-room, because they were not
wanted there.

And the early summer came and everything grew green. The conductor
had dined at the restaurant "Hazelmount," and had drunk a bottle of
Burgundy with his dinner, and therefore he slept long and soundly,
especially as the theatre was closed on that day.

He slept well, but while he slept it grew so warm in the room that
he woke up two or three times, or, at any rate, he thought he did.
Once he fancied that his wall-paper was on fire, but that was probably
the effect of the Burgundy; another time he felt as if something
hot had touched his face, but that was certainly the Burgundy; and
so he turned over and fell asleep again.

At half-past nine he got up, dressed, and went into the sitting-room
to refresh himself with a glass of milk which always stood ready
for him in the morning.

It was anything but cool in the sitting-room this morning; it
was almost warm, too warm. And the cold milk was not cold; it was
lukewarm, unpleasantly lukewarm.