Doctor Winchester had on their journey from the hospital, coached her in the necessary particulars, and without a word she took charge of the patient and set to work.  Having examined the new-made bed and shaken the pillows, she spoke to the Doctor, who gave instructions; presently we all four, stepping together, lifted the unconscious man from the sofa.

Early in the afternoon, when Sergeant Daw had returned, I called at my rooms in Jermyn Street, and sent out such clothes, books and papers as I should be likely to want within a few days.  Then I went on to keep my legal engagements.

The Court sat late that day as an important case was ending; it was striking six as I drove in at the gate of the Kensington Palace Road.  I found myself installed in a large room close to the sick chamber.

That night we were not yet regularly organised for watching, so that the early part of the evening showed an unevenly balanced guard.  Nurse Kennedy, who had been on duty all day, was lying down, as she had arranged to come on again by twelve o’clock.  Doctor Winchester, who was dining in the house, remained in the room until dinner was announced; and went back at once when it was over.  During dinner Mrs. Grant remained in the room, and with her Sergeant Daw, who wished to complete a minute examination which he had undertaken of everything in the room and near it.  At nine o’clock Miss Trelawny and I went in to relieve the Doctor.  She had lain down for a few hours in the afternoon so as to be refreshed for her work at night.  She told me that she had determined that for this night at least she would sit up and watch.  I did not try to dissuade her, for I knew that her mind was made up.  Then and there I made up my mind that I would watch with her—­unless, of course, I should see that she really did not wish it.  I said nothing of my intentions for the present.  We came in on tiptoe, so silently that the Doctor, who was bending over the bed, did not hear us, and seemed a little startled when suddenly looking up he saw our eyes upon him.  I felt that the mystery of the whole thing was getting on his nerves, as it had already got on the nerves of some others of us.  He was, I fancied, a little annoyed with himself for having been so startled, and at once began to talk in a hurried manner as though to get over our idea of his embarrassment: 

“I am really and absolutely at my wits’ end to find any fit cause for this stupor.  I have made again as accurate an examination as I know how, and I am satisfied that there is no injury to the brain, that is, no external injury.  Indeed, all his vital organs seem unimpaired.  I have given him, as you know, food several times and it has manifestly done him good.  His breathing is strong and regular, and his pulse is slower and stronger than it was this morning.  I cannot find evidence of any known drug, and his unconsciousness does not resemble any of the many cases of hypnotic sleep which