As Mr. Weiss stood, with his head slightly turned, I was able to look through one glass of his spectacles at the wall beyond.  On the wall was a framed print; and the edge of the frame, seen through the spectacle-glass, appeared quite unaltered and free from distortion, magnification or reduction, as if seen through plain window-glass; and yet the reflections of the candle-flame in the spectacles showed the flame upside down, proving conclusively that the glasses were concave on one surface at least.  The strange phenomenon was visible only for a moment or two, and as it passed out of my sight it passed also out of my mind.

“No,” I said, replying to the last question; “I can think of no way in which he could have effectually hidden a store of morphine.  Judging by the symptoms, he has taken a large dose, and, if he has been in the habit of consuming large quantities, his stock would be pretty bulky.  I can offer no suggestion whatever.”

“I suppose you consider him quite out of danger now?”

“Oh, not at all.  I think we can pull him round if we persevere, but he must not be allowed to sink back into a state of coma.  We must keep him on the move until the effects of the drug have really passed off.  If you will put him into his dressing-gown we will walk him up and down the room for a while.”

“But is that safe?” Mr. Weiss asked anxiously.

“Quite safe,” I answered.  “I will watch his pulse carefully.  The danger is in the possibility, or rather certainty, of a relapse if he is not kept moving.”

With obvious unwillingness and disapproval, Mr. Weiss produced a dressing-gown and together we invested the patient in it.  Then we dragged him, very limp, but not entirely unresisting, out of bed and stood him on his feet.  He opened his eyes and blinked owlishly first at one and then at the other of us, and mumbled a few unintelligible words of protest; regardless of which, we thrust his feet into slippers and endeavoured to make him walk.  At first he seemed unable to stand, and we had to support him by his arms as we urged him forward; but presently his trailing legs began to make definite walking movements, and, after one or two turns up and down the room, he was not only able partly to support his weight, but showed evidence of reviving consciousness in more energetic protests.

At this point Mr. Weiss astonished me by transferring the arm that he held to the housekeeper.

“If you will excuse me, doctor,” said he, “I will go now and attend to some rather important business that I have had to leave unfinished.  Mrs. Schallibaum will be able to give you all the assistance that you require, and will order the carriage when you think it safe to leave the patient.  In case I should not see you again I will say ‘good night.’  I hope you won’t think me very unceremonious.”

He shook hands with me and went out of the room, leaving me, as I have said, profoundly astonished that he should consider any business of more moment than the condition of his friend, whose life, even now, was but hanging by a thread.  However, it was really no concern of mine.  I could do without him, and the resuscitation of this unfortunate half-dead man gave me occupation enough to engross my whole attention.