One night, when we were to have gone to a new play at the Gaiety, the captain felt out of sorts and decided to stay indoors with a book and a pipe. I returned home rather late, and, as I passed his room, I heard choking, inarticulate sounds. Thinking he must be ill, I opened the door quietly and looked in. He was lying in bed, tossing uneasily and muttering in his sleep. While I waited--wondering if I ought to wake him--his muttering went on, broken here and there by an intelligible word. [Illustration: "'HANDS OFF!' HE ALMOST SHOUTED, AND STARTED UP IN BED."] "The Rigi--Came for your health--Hate looking over precipices, do you?--Oh, don't be a baby!--Two thousand feet down--Ah, I've done it!" Beads of perspiration started out on his forehead, and he groaned as if suffering agonies. I put my hand on his shoulder. "Hands off!" he almost shouted, and started up in bed, a horrible expression of fear on his face. "Why, Wyngate, old chap, you seem to be having a first-class nightmare," I remarked. "Oh, it's you, is it?" he replied, not very graciously. "What are you doing here?" "You were talking in your sleep," I told him, "and tossing about all over the place." "That's very strange indeed," he said, anxiously. "I'm seldom troubled with nightmares." "Yes," I continued, "you thought you were at the top of a precipice in Switzerland with another fellow, and threw him over." "Nonsense!" he exclaimed, roughly. "Weren't you dreaming about precipices?" I asked. "Nothing of the kind!" he snapped. "I have slept badly, that was all, and you needn't have roused me." "Sorry, old chap," I rejoined, and left the room, rather offended by his unusual surliness. Next morning Wyngate said nothing about his nightmare, but the effects did not seem to have left him. He found fault with the breakfast, made irritable remarks, and, though he was not actually rude, revealed a side of his character which was new to me. This was, in fact, the commencement of altered relations between us. I began to notice in his conversation covert sneers at my youth and inexperience, though this did not in the least prevent him from borrowing a few pounds from time to time when a bill came in. The money would not have mattered at all had he remained the good fellow he had seemed at first, but it was a different matter now, and I began to chafe. Things went on like this for a couple of weeks. Then one day Hicks, my servant, came to me with three of Captain Wyngate's tradesmen's bills. "The captain," said Hicks, "won't be back till to-night, sir, and he told me to ask you if you would kindly pay these for him."