He was still in his pajamas and the morning was cold, but he suddenly felt a great drop of perspiration on his forehead.

It was the sort of thing, this, which he had expected--had been prepared for, in fact--but it was none the less, in its way, gruesome.

There was a further knock at the door, and the waiter reappeared.
"Can I bring you any breakfast, sir ?" he enquired.
"What time is it ?" "Half-past nine, sir." "Bring me some coffee and rolls and butter," Philip ordered.
He sprang out of bed, bathed, dressed, and ate his breakfast.

Then he lit a cigarette, repacked his dressing-case, and descended into the hall.

He made his way to the hall porter's enquiry office.
"I am going to pay some calls in the city," he announced--"Mr.Romilly is my name--and I may not be able to get back here before my boat sails.
I am going on the _Elletania_.