"Sir," said Ali, "some subjects, when enjoying refreshing coma, possess delirium, hallucinations, highly imaginative, which dissipate when the subject recovers consciousness, but retain in brain cavity illusory reminiscences." Bones thrust his face into the other's. "Do you mean to tell me I dreamt it?" he hissed. "Sir," said Ali, "self-preservation compels complete acquiescence in your diagnosis." "You're childish," said Bones. He gave a few vague instructions in the best Bones manner, and stole up to the dark Residency. He had solemnly promised Sanders that he would rouse the girl without waking up the rest of the house. They were to go up stream to the Village Island, where the ironworkers of the Akasava had many curious implements to show her. Breakfast was to be taken on the boat, and they were to return for tiffin. Overnight she had shown Bones the window of her room, and Hamilton had offered to make a chalk mark on the sash, so there could be no mistaking the situation of the room. "If you wake me before sunrise, I shall do something I shall be sorry for," he warned Bones. "If you return without straightening the accounts, I shall do something which _you_ will be sorry for." Bones remembered this as he crept stealthily along the wooden verandah. To make doubly sure, he took off his boots and dropped them with a crash. "Sh!" said Bones loudly. "Sh, Bones! Not so much noise, you silly old ass!" He crept softly along the wooden wall and reconnoitred. The middle window was Hamilton's room, the left was Sanders's, the right was Patricia's. He went carefully to the right window and knocked. There was no answer. He knocked again. Still no reply. He knocked loudly. "Is that you, Bones?" growled Sanders's voice. Bones gasped. "Awfully sorry, sir," he whispered agitatedly--"my mistake entirely." He tiptoed to the left window and rapped smartly. Then he whistled, then he rapped again. He heard a bed creak, and turned his head modestly away. "It's Bones, dear old sister," he said, in his loudest whisper. "Arise, for mornin' in the bowl of light has----" Hamilton's voice raged at him. "I knew it was you, you blithering----" "Dear old officer," began Bones, "awfully sorry! Go to sleep again. Night-night!" "Go to the devil!" said a muffled voice. Bones, however, went to the middle window; here he could make no mistake. He knocked authoritatively. "Hurry up, ma'am," he said; "time is on the wing----" The sash was flung up, and again Bones confronted the furious Hamilton. "Sir," said the exasperated Bones, "how the dooce did you get here?" "Don't you know this room has two windows? I told you last night, you goop! Pat sleeps at the other end of the building. I told you that, too, but you've got a brain like wool!" "I am obliged to you, sir," said Bones, on his dignity, "for the information. I will not detain you." Hamilton groped on his dressing-table for a hair-brush.