The Sleeper Awakes

He glanced round at Isbister's footfall. Both men were disconcerted, Isbister the more so, and, to override the awkwardness of his involuntary pause, he remarked, with an air of mature conviction, that the weather was hot for the time of year. "Very," answered the stranger shortly, hesitated a second, and added in a colourless tone, "I can't sleep." Isbister stopped abruptly. "No?" was all he said, but his bearing conveyed his helpful impulse. "It may sound incredible," said the stranger, turning weary eyes to Isbister's face and emphasizing his words with a languid hand, "but I have had no sleep-no sleep at all for six nights." "Had advice?" "Yes. Bad advice for the most part. Drugs. My nervous system.... They are all very well for the run of people. It's hard to explain. I dare not take ... sufficiently powerful drugs." "That makes it difficult," said Isbister. He stood helplessly in the narrow path, perplexed what to do. Clearly the man wanted to talk.