Herr Selingman's head vanished for a moment or two.

When he reappeared, he held two glasses in his hand.
"A whisky soda made in real English fashion," he proclaimed triumphantly.
"A good nightcap, is it not?
Now we are off again." Norgate held out his hand for the tumbler.
"Awfully good of you," he murmured.
"I myself," Selingman continued, seated on the edge of the bunk, with his legs far apart to steady himself, "I myself enjoy a whisky soda.

It will be indeed a nightcap, so here goes." He drained his glass and set it down.

Norgate followed suit.

Selingman's hand came up for the tumbler and Norgate was conscious of a curious mixture of sensations which he had once experienced before in the dentist's chair.