Bannister like a man in a dream.
He was aware now that he was exhausted with a fatigue that was beyond
anything that he had ever experienced. It was a weariness that was not,
under any conditions, to be resisted. He must lie down--here,
anywhere--now, at once and sleep ... sleep ... sleep.
Mr. Bannister caught him by the arm as he swayed.
"You looked played out, sir."
"Done up... done up!"
His eyes were closed. Then suddenly he had touched Mr. Bannister's
shoulder. He was looking at a wire letter rack, hanging by the
superintendent's little office. There were some telegrams and many letters
stretched behind the wire netting. One envelope was addressed--
_Miss Norah Monogue,
The Man at Arms Hotel.
Treliss,
Cornwall._
"Miss Monogue ... Miss Monogue ... have you any one here called Miss
Monogue?"
"Yes, sir--been here some weeks. Poor lady, she's very ill I'm afraid.
Something to do with her heart--strained it in some way. Seemed much better
... but the last few days...."
Peter stumbled upstairs to his room.
II
Some clock was striking five when he awoke and looking vaguely about his
room saw, by the light, that it must be late afternoon. He must have slept
for a day and a night. As he lay back on his bed his first moments of
consciousness were filled with a pleasant sense of rest and ease.
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