She was evidently making a night of it. I sighed and sat down in a chair.

“I don’t quite see the reason for your agitation,” I said patiently.

“My dream⁠—”

“That curry we had for dinner!”

“Oh, Sir Eustace!”

The woman was quite indignant. And yet everybody knows that nightmares are a direct result of injudicious eating.

“After all,” I continued persuasively, “why shouldn’t Anne Beddingfeld and Race go out for a little stroll without having the whole hotel aroused about it?”

“You think they’ve just gone out for a stroll together? But it’s after midnight!”