"I make no apology, Mr. Blake, for the place in which I am receiving
you," he said. "It is the only room in the house, at this hour of the
day, in which we can feel quite sure of being left undisturbed. Here
are my papers ready for you; and here are two books to which we may have
occasion to refer, before we have done. Bring your chair to the table,
and we shall be able to consult them together."
I drew up to the table; and Ezra Jennings handed me his manuscript
notes. They consisted of two large folio leaves of paper. One leaf
contained writing which only covered the surface at intervals. The other
presented writing, in red and black ink, which completely filled the
page from top to bottom. In the irritated state of my curiosity, at that
moment, I laid aside the second sheet of paper in despair.
"Have some mercy on me!" I said. "Tell me what I am to expect, before I
attempt to read this."
"Willingly, Mr. Blake! Do you mind my asking you one or two more
questions?"
"Ask me anything you like!"
He looked at me with the sad smile on his lips, and the kindly interest
in his soft brown eyes.
"You have already told me," he said, "that you have never--to your
knowledge--tasted opium in your life."
"To my knowledge," I repeated.
"You will understand directly why I speak with that reservation. Let us
go on. You are not aware of ever having taken opium. At this time,
last year, you were suffering from nervous irritation, and you slept
wretchedly at night. On the night of the birthday, however, there was an
exception to the rule--you slept soundly. Am I right, so far?"
"Quite right!"
"Can you assign any cause for the nervous suffering, and your want of
sleep?"
"I can assign no cause. Old Betteredge made a guess at the cause, I
remember. But that is hardly worth mentioning."
"Pardon me. Anything is worth mentioning in such a case as this.
Betteredge attributed your sleeplessness to something. To what?"
"To my leaving off smoking."
"Had you been an habitual smoker?"
"Yes."
"Did you leave off the habit suddenly?"
"Yes."
"Betteredge was perfectly right, Mr. Blake. When smoking is a habit
a man must have no common constitution who can leave it off suddenly
without some temporary damage to his nervous system. Your sleepless
nights are accounted for, to my mind. My next question refers to Mr.
Candy. Do you remember having entered into anything like a dispute
with him--at the birthday dinner, or afterwards--on the subject of his
profession?"