In his first glance he scarcely grasped the details of the
scene, for the half-drawn curtains kept the light dim, but as
his eyes grew accustomed to the obscurity he gathered their
significance.
The room had a sleepless, jaded air--the room that under his
own occupation had shown a rigid, almost monastic severity.
The plain dressing-table was littered with cigarette ends and
marked with black and tawny patches where the tobacco had been
left to burn itself out. On one corner of the table a carafe
of water and a whiskey-decanter rested one against the other,
as if for support, and at the other end an overturned tumbler
lay in a pool of liquid. The whole effect was sickly and
nauseating. His glance turned involuntarily to the bed, and
there halted.
On the hard, narrow mattress, from which the sheets and
blankets had fallen in a disordered heap, lay Chilcote. He
was fully dressed in a shabby tweed suit of Loder's; his
collar was open, his lip and chin unshaven; one hand was
limply grasping the pillow, while the other hung out over the
side of the bed.
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