John Burnet of Barns by John Buchan — Read

I slept till dawn the dreamless sleep of those who have drowned care in bodily exertion. It was scarce light when I awoke, and, with the opening of the eyes, there came with a rush the consciousness of my errand. I leaped out of bed, and sitting on the edge considered my further actions.

First I sought to remove from my person some of the more glaring stains of travel. There was water in the room, bitter cold and all but frozen, and with it I laved my face and hands.