Chapter 2
Francis Ledsam arrived at his club, the Sheridan, an hour later
than he had anticipated. He nodded to the veteran hall-porter, hung
up his hat and stick, and climbed the great staircase to the
card-room without any distinct recollection of performing any of
these simple and reasonable actions. In the cardroom he exchanged a
few greetings with friends, accepted without comment or without the
slightest tinge of gratification a little chorus of chafing
congratulations upon his latest triumph, and left the room without
any inclination to play, although there was a vacant place at his
favourite table. From sheer purposelessness he wandered back again
into the hall, and here came his first gleam of returning
sensation. He came face to face with his most intimate friend,
An
