"It seems an absurd thing to do," he said, "but I will if you like.
What shall I say?" and he sat down at his desk to write the letter.

It was written in less than five minutes. It simply asked for the
desired information, and requested an immediate reply. Below the
doctor's signature I added a short postscript in these words:--

"My story about the letter and its contents is discredited. Pray answer
fully, and at once.--W. F. F."

At my request the doctor accompanied me to the Post-office, on Toronto
Street, and dropped the letter into the box with his own hands. I bade
him good night, and repaired to the Rossin House. I did not feel like
encountering Alice again until I could place myself in a more
satisfactory light before her. I despatched a messenger to her with a
short note stating that I had not discovered anything important, and
requesting her not to wait up for me. Then I engaged a room and went
to bed.

But not to sleep. All night long I tossed about from one side of the
bed to the other; and at daylight, feverish and unrefreshed, I strolled
out. I returned in time for breakfast, but ate little or nothing. I
longed for the arrival of ten o'clock, when the banks would open.

After breakfast I sat down in the reading-room of the hotel, and vainly
tried to fix my attention upon the local columns of the morning's
paper. I remember reading over several items time after time, without
any comprehension of their meaning. After that I remember--nothing.