After that--well, after that I suppose I fell asleep. * * * * * I base this last idea upon the fact that the next thing I remember is hearing some one say in a rather subdued voice: "Don't wake him up. Let him sleep as long as he likes--it's the best thing for him." Whereupon, as was only natural, I promptly opened my eyes. Dr. McMurtrie and the dark girl were standing by my bedside, looking down at me. I blinked at them for a moment, wondering in my half-awake state where the devil I had got to. Then suddenly it all came back to me. "Well," said the doctor smoothly, "and how is the patient today?" I stretched myself with some care. I was still pretty stiff, and my throat felt as if some one had been scraping it with sand-paper, but all the same I knew that I was better--much better. "I don't think there's any serious damage," I said hoarsely. "How long have I been asleep?" He looked at his watch. "As far as I remember, you went to sleep in your bath soon after midnight. It's now four o'clock in the afternoon." I started up in bed. "Four o'clock!" I exclaimed. "Good Lord! I must get up--I--" He laid his hand on my shoulder. "Don't be foolish, my friend," he said. "You will get up when you are fit to get up. At the present moment you are going to have something to eat." He turned to the girl. "What are you thinking of giving him?" he asked. "There are plenty of eggs," she said, "and there's some of that fish we had for breakfast." She answered curtly, almost rudely, looking at me while she spoke. Her manner gave me the impression that for some reason or other she and McMurtrie were not exactly on the best of terms. If that was so, he himself betrayed no sign of it. "Either will do excellently," he said in his usual suave way, "or perhaps our young friend could manage both. I believe the Dartmoor air is most stimulating." "I shall be vastly grateful for anything," I said, addressing the girl. "Whatever is the least trouble to cook." She nodded and left the room without further remark--McMurtrie looking after her with what seemed like a faint gleam of malicious amusement. "I have brought you yesterday's _Daily Mail_," he said; "I thought it would amuse you to read the description of your escape. It is quite entertaining; and besides that there is a masterly little summary of your distinguished career prior to its unfortunate interruption." He laid the paper on the bed. "First of all, though," he added, "I will just look you over. I couldn't find much the matter with you last night, but we may as well make certain." He made a short examination of my throat, and then, after feeling my pulse, tapped me vigorously all over the chest. "Well," he said finally, "you have been through enough to kill two ordinary men, but except for giving you a slight cold in the head it seems to have done you good."