Jimmy Crocker was a tall and well-knit young man who later on inthe day would no doubt be at least passably good-looking. At themoment an unbecoming pallor marred his face, and beneath his eyeswere marks that suggested that he had slept little and ill. Hestood at the foot of the stairs, yawning cavernously.

　　"Bayliss," he said, "have you been painting yourself yellow?""No, sir.""Strange! Your face looks a bright gamboge to me, and youroutlines wobble. Bayliss, never mix your drinks. I say this toyou as a friend. Is there any one in the morning-room?""No, Mr. James.""Speak softly, Bayliss, for I am not well. I am conscious of astrange weakness. Lead me to the morning-room, then, and lay megently on a sofa. These are the times that try men's souls."The sun was now shining strongly through the windows of themorning-room. Bayliss lowered the shades. Jimmy Crocker sank ontothe sofa, and closed his eyes.

　　"Bayliss.""Sir?""A conviction is stealing over me that I am about to expire.""Shall I bring you a little breakfast, Mr. James?"A strong shudder shook Jimmy.

　　"Don't be flippant, Bayliss," he protested. "Try to cure yourselfof this passion for being funny at the wrong time. Your comedy isgood, but tact is a finer quality than humour. Perhaps you thinkI have forgotten that morning when I was feeling just as I doto-day and you came to my bedside and asked me if I would like anice rasher of ham. I haven't and I never shall. You may bring mea brandy-and-soda. Not a large one. A couple of bath-tubs fullwill be enough.""Very good, Mr. James.""And now leave me, Bayliss, for I would be alone. I have to makea series of difficult and exhaustive tests to ascertain whether Iam still alive."When the butler had gone, Jimmy adjusted the cushions, closed hiseyes, and remained for a space in a state of coma. He was trying,as well as an exceedingly severe headache would permit, to recallthe salient events of the previous night. At present his memoriesrefused to solidify. They poured about in his brain in a fluidand formless condition, exasperating to one who sought for hardfacts.

　　It seemed strange to Jimmy that the shadowy and inchoate vision ofa combat, a fight, a brawl of some kind persisted in flittingabout in the recesses of his mind, always just far enough away toelude capture. The absurdity of the thing annoyed him. A man haseither indulged in a fight overnight or he has not indulged in afight overnight. There can be no middle course. That he should beuncertain on the point was ridiculous. Yet, try as he would, hecould not be sure. There were moments when he seemed on the veryverge of settling the matter, and then some invisible personwould meanly insert a red-hot corkscrew in the top of his headand begin to twist it, and this would interfere with calmthought. He was still in a state of uncertainty when Baylissreturned, bearing healing liquids on a tray.