he sighed. “I’m afraid it’s too late to get any now.”
“And I’m glad of it,” said I. “A man in my state ought not to look at spirits, or he may never look past them again. Thank goodness, there are other medicines. Only this morning I consulted the best man on nerves in London. I wish I’d gone to him long ago.”
“Harley Street, was it?”
“Yes.”
“Saw you on his doorstep, by Jove!” cried Rattray at once. “I was driving over to Hampstead, and I thought it was you. Well, what’s the prescription?”
And this was clearly the case; for the thing was a drowned and bloated corpse.
It fascinated me, though not with extraordinary horror; it came too late to do that. I thought I recognized the man’s back. I fancied it was the mate who had taken charge of the long-boat. Was I then the single survivor