At the farther end was a small brazier of burning charcoal, beside which on a three-legged wooden stool there sat a tall, thin old man, with his jaw resting upon his two fists, and his elbows upon his knees, staring into the fire.
As I entered, a sallow Malay attendant had hurried up with a pipe for me and a supply of the drug, beckoning me to an empty berth.
"Thank you.

I have not come to stay," said I."There is a friend of mine here, Mr.Isa Whitney, and I wish to speak with him." There was a movement and an exclamation from my right, and peering through the gloom, I saw Whitney, pale, haggard, and unkempt, staring out at me.
"My God! It's Watson," said he.

He was in a pitiable state of reaction, with every nerve in a twitter.

"I say, Watson, what o'clock is it ?" "Nearly eleven." "Of what day ?" "Of Friday, June 19th." "Good heavens! I thought it was Wednesday.

It is Wednesday.