It was the only way in which I could account for the spasm which preluded that last fit of coughing.
If it was so, he would be naturally anxious to conceal the fact from Jack on the eve of his examination, and that would account for his abrupt interruption of my question.
However, I had no examination to-morrow, and I was determined if possible to know the truth about our friend that very evening.
I sat by while Jack wrote his letter, thinking it interminable, and wondering what he could have to say to fill two sheets.

When it was done I insisted on taking it to the post.
"It's after ten now," said I, "and you really ought to be in bed." "You're precious careful of me, old boy," he said.

"However, you shall have your own way for once." I saw him safe in bed before I started, and then hastened out.
To post the letter was the work of a minute or two, for there was a pillar-box a little way down the road.

This done, I returned eagerly and with some trepidation to the lodgings, and knocked at Mr Smith's door.
He made no answer, so I entered without leave.
He was sitting on a chair by the tireless hearth with his head on his hands, either asleep or buried in thought.
It was not till I touched him that he became aware of my presence, and then he did so with a start, as if I had been a ghost.
"Ah, Batchelor," said he, recovering himself and leaning back in his chair.
"Are you ill, Mr Smith ?" I asked.
"No, my boy, no," said he; "not ill." "I thought you were--upstairs just now." "Did you?
Ah! you saw me jump; I had a twinge.

But don't let's talk of that.