Clem Sypher slept the sleep of the warrior preparing for battle.

When he awoke at Lyons he had all the sensations of a wounded Achilles.

His heel smarted and tingled and ached, and every time he turned over determined on a continuation of slumber, his foot seemed to occupy the whole width of the berth.

He reanointed himself and settled down again.

But wakefulness had gripped him.