He jumped into a hansom and drove down to South Kensington.
Mallinson was still in bed, but sufficiently recovered to write up his diary.

The book lay upon the counterpane open, but as Fielding was introduced into the room, its author shut it up and tucked it under his pillow.

It was kept entirely for his own perusal, a voluminous record of sensations ranging from a headache to a fit of anger, without the mention of an incident from cover to cover.
'I hear you have had a touch of bronchitis,' said Fielding.
'Something more than a touch, I can tell you.

I have been rather ill.
However, I am going to get up to-morrow.' Fielding found it difficult to come to the point of his visit.
'You must have found it dull.' 'Not very.

I can always interest myself.