He uttered the words weightily, with very definite intention.  Valentine, who still seemed to be in an unusually lazy or careless mood, laughed easily.

“I will remember,” he said.

He yawned.

“My trance has made me sleepy,” he added.

The doctor got up.

“Yes; bed is the best place for you,” he said.

“And for us all, I suppose,” added Julian.  “Though I feel as if I could never sleep again.”

The doctor went out into the hall to get his coat, leaving the friends alone for a moment.

“I am still so excited,” Julian went on.  “Dear old fellow!  How good it is to see you yourself again.  I made up my mind that you were dead.  This is like a resurrection.  Oh, Val, if you had been dead, really!”

“What would you have done?”

“Done!  I don’t know.  Gone to the devil, probably.”

“Do you know where to find him?”

“My dear boy, he is in every London street, to begin with.”

“In Victoria Street, even.  I was only laughing.”

“But tell me, what did you feel?”

“Nothing.  As if I slept.”

“And you really heard, saw, nothing?”

“Nothing.”

“And that hand?”

Valentine smiled again, and seemed to hesitate.  But then he replied, quietly: 

“I told you I could not feel it.”

“I did, until I heard that dreadful cry, and then it was suddenly drawn away from me.”

Doctor Levillier appeared in the doorway with his overcoat on, but Julian did not notice him.  Again his excitement was rising.  He began to pace up and down the room.

“My God!” he said, vehemently, “what would Marr say to all this?  What does it mean?  What can it mean?”

“Don’t let us bother too much about it.”

“Excellent advice,” said Levillier, from the doorway.

Julian stood still.

“Doctor, I can understand your attitude,” he said.  “But what an amazing being you are, Val.  You are as calm and collected as if you had sat and held converse with spirits all through your life.  And yet something has governed you, has temporarily deprived you of life.  For you were to all intents and purposes dead while you were in that trance.”

“Death is simply nothing, and nothingness does not excite or terrify one.  I never felt better than I do at this moment.”

“That’s well,” said Levillier, cheerfully.

Julian regarded Valentine’s pure, beautiful face with astonishment.

“And you never looked better.”

“I shall sleep exquisitely to-night, or rather this morning,” Valentine said.

As he spoke he drew away the heavy green curtain that hung across the window.  A very pale shaft of light stole in and lit up his white face.

It was the dawn, and, standing there, he looked like the spirit of the dawn, painted against the dying night in such pale colours, white, blue, and shadowy gold, a wonder of death and of life.