The Corner House by Fred M. White

Lawrence was burning the midnight oil, and therefore impatient of interruptions. But upon hearing Prout's name he finished the chapter he was writing and slung up his reading lamp. He was hospitable over his cigarette and whisky.

"Come to tell me you have made a discovery, eh?" he asked. "No need to tell me that, I can see it in your face. Sit down man--one o'clock in the morning is comparatively early for a novelist. Go on."