"In the meanwhile, if you'll show me up to my bedroom, I'll have a wash and change my clothes, for I've been travelling since ten this morning." I was standing in the passage by this time, and examined it in the dusk while the landlord was fetching a candle.

Yes, again: I had felt sure the staircase lay to the right.

I knew by heart the Ionic pattern of its broad balusters; the tick of the tall clock, standing at the first turn of the stairs; the vista down the glazed door opening on the stable-yard.

When the landlord returned with my portmanteau and a candle and I followed him up-stairs, I was asking myself for the twentieth time--'When--in what stage of my soul's history--had I been doing all this before?
And what on earth was that tune that kept humming in my head ?' I dismissed these speculations as I entered the bedroom and began to fling off my dusty clothes.

I had almost forgotten about them by the time I began to wash away my travel-stains, and rinse the coal-dust out of my hair.