Then I heard the quarters chime from belfry to belfry all over the quiet city, and found that it was half-past three o'clock.
Presently a patrol of _gendarmes_ went by, and, finding that they paused and looked at me suspiciously, I turned away, and bent my steps homewards.
By the time I reached the Cite Bergere it was past four, and the early market-carts were already rumbling along the Rue du Faubourg Montmartre.
Going up wearily to my apartments, I found a note waiting for me in Dalrymple's handwriting.

It ran thus:-- "MY DEAR DAMON:-- "Do you know that it is nearly a month since I last saw you?
Do you know that I have called twice at your lodgings without finding you at home?
I hear of you as having been constantly seen, of late, in the society of a very pretty woman of our acquaintance; but I confess that I do not desire to see you go to the devil entirely without the friendly assistance of "Yours faithfully, "OSCAR DALRYMPLE." I read the note twice.

I could scarcely believe that I had so neglected my only friend.

Had I been mad?
Or a fool ?--or both?
Too anxious and unhappy to sleep, and too tired to sit up, I lit my lamp, threw myself upon the bed, and there lay repenting my wasted hours, my misplaced love and my egregious folly, till morning came with its sunshine and its traffic, and found me a "wiser," if not a "better man." "Half-past seven!" exclaimed I to myself, as I jumped up and plunged my head into a basin of cold water.

"Dr.Cheron shall see me before nine this morning.