Thus there was a good big, roomy arm-chair, a writing-table, and a clock, of which the hands now pointed to a quarter to one o'clock.
The broad, low bed, pushed back into an alcove as is the French fashion, looked delightfully cool and inviting by the light of his one candle.
When M.Malfait had shown him into the room the window was wide open to the hot, starless night, but the landlord, though he had left the window open, had drawn the thick curtains across it.

That was all right; Chester had no wish to be wakened at five in the morning by the sunlight streaming into the room.

He meant to have a really long rest.

He was too tired to think--too tired to do anything but turn in.
And then an odd thing happened.

Chester's brain was so thoroughly awake, he had become so over-excited, that he could not, try as he might, fall asleep.
He lay awake tossing about hour after hour.