"Your wife mentioned to me that you were troubled on that point," broke in Dr. Rumsey. "Pray dismiss it at once and forever from your mind. The fact of your having forgotten such a trifle is not of the slightest consequence." "Do you think so? The fret about it has fastened itself very deeply into my mind." "Well, don't think of it again--the next time it occurs to torment you, just remember that I, who have made brain troubles like yours my special study, think nothing at all about it." "Thank you, I'll try to remember." "Do so. Now, I wish to talk to you about another matter. You sleep badly." "Do I?" Awdrey raised his brows. "I cannot recall that fact." "Nevertheless you do. Your wife speaks of it. Now in your state of health it is most essential that you should have good nights." "I always feel an added sense of depression when I am going to bed," said Awdrey, "but I am unconscious that I have bad nights--what can Margaret mean?" "I trust that your wife's natural nervousness with regard to you makes her inclined to exaggerate your symptoms, but I may as well say frankly that some of the things she has mentioned, as occurring night after night, have given me uneasiness. Now I should like to be with you during one of your bad nights." "What do you mean?" "Come home with me to-night, my good fellow," said the doctor, laying his hand on Awdrey's shoulder--"we will pass this night together. What do you say?" "Your request surprises me very much, but it would be a relief--I will go," said Awdrey. He turned and rang the bell as he spoke--a servant appeared, who was sent with a message to Mrs. Awdrey. She came to the drawing-room in a few minutes. Her face of animation, wakefulness of soul and feeling, made a strong contrast to Awdrey's haggard, lifeless expression. He went up to his wife and put his hand on her shoulder. "You have been telling tales of me, Maggie," he said. "You complain of something I know nothing about--my bad nights." "They are very bad, Robert, very terrible," she replied. "I cannot recall a single thing about them." "I wish you could remember," she said. "I have made a suggestion to your husband," interrupted Dr. Rumsey, "which I am happy to say he approves of. He returns with me to my house to-night. I will promise to look after him. If he does happen to have a bad night I shall be witness to it. Now pray go to bed yourself and enjoy the rest you sorely need." Margaret tried to smile in reply, but her eyes filled with tears. Rumsey saw them, but Awdrey took no notice--he was staring straight into vacancy, after his habitual fashion. A moment later he and Rumsey left the house together. Ten minutes afterward Rumsey opened his own door with a latchkey. "It is late," he said to his guest. He glanced at the clock as he spoke. "At this hour I always indulge in supper--it is waiting for me now. Will you come and have a glass of port with me?"