He screwed his face up and looked about the room as though he expected to see some haunting shape.

“This influence in this house induced by my experiment, has killed in a flash, in a sudden stroke, the sources of my humour, and though I still go on writing funny tales⁠—I have a certain name you know⁠—my inspiration has dried up, and much of what I write I have to burn⁠—yes, doctor, to burn, before anyone sees it.”

“As utterly alien to your own mind and personality?”

“Utterly! As though someone else had written it⁠—”

“Ah!”

“And shocking!” He passed his hand over his eyes a moment and let the breath escape softly through his teeth. “Yet most damnably clever in the consummate way the vile suggestions are insinuated under cover of a kind of high drollery. My stenographer left me of course⁠—and I’ve been afraid to take another⁠—”