But it no longer startled him, as it had done the first time, and soon he was fast asleep.
It might have been a moment, it might have been an hour, later, when there came a sudden, urgent knocking at his door.

He sat up in bed.
"Come in," he called out, now wide awake.
The door opened slowly--and there came through it a curious-looking figure.

It was James Tapster, arrayed in a wonderful dressing-gown made of Persian shawls, and edged with fur.

He held a candlestick in his hand, and the candle threw up a flickering light on his pallid, alarmed-looking face.
"Dr.Panton," he whispered, "I wish you'd come out here a moment." And the doctor, cursing his bad luck, and feeling what he very seldom felt, thoroughly angry, said ungraciously: "What is the matter?
Can't you tell me without my getting out of bed ?" Last night's excellent dinner, which couldn't have hurt any healthy man, had evidently upset the unhealthy millionaire.
"Can't you hear ?" whispered Tapster.

His teeth were, chattering; he certainly looked very ill.
"Hear! Hear what ?" Tapster held up his hand.