Too tired to sleep, too tired even to think, he could do nothing but submit to the ridiculous torment; watching in spite of himself every note, as one jig-tune after another was fiddled by all the imps close to his ear, mile after mile, and county after county, for all that weary day, which seemed full seven years long.
At Euston Square the porter called him several times ere he could rouse him.

He could hear nothing for awhile but that same imps' melody, even though it had stopped.

At last he got out, staring round him, shook himself awake by one strong effort, and hurried away, not knowing whither he went.
Wrapt up in self, he wandered on till dark, slept on a doorstep, and awoke, not knowing at first where he was.

Gradually all the horror came back to him, and with the horror the craving for opium wherewith to forget it.
He looked round to see his whereabouts.

Surely this must be Golden Square?
A sudden thought struck him.