Visited Renfield very early, before attendant
went his rounds. Found him up and humming a tune. He was spreading out his sugar,
which he had saved, in the window, and was manifestly beginning his fly catching
again, and beginning it cheerfully and with a good grace.
I looked around
for his birds, and not seeing them, asked him where they were. He replied, without
turning round, that they had all flown away. There were a few feathers about the
room and on his pillow a drop of blood. I said nothing, but went and told the
keeper to report to me if there were anything odd about him during the day.