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Chapter 39

           Hebentoverhispapersclosely—hisfacewasfurrowedandverypale—butsolife-likewashe,soseeminglysubstantialthatIcalledhimbyname,whereathelookedup—smileddrearily,andwasgone!TremblingineverylimbIrealizedthatherewasanotherspectralterroraddedtotheburdenofmydays;andsittingdown,Itriedtorallymyscatteredforcesandreasonoutwhatwasbesttobedone.TherewasnodoubtIwasveryill;—thesephantomswerethewarningofbrain-disease.Imustendeavour,Ithought,tokeepmyselfwellundercontroltillIgottoEngland—thereIdeterminedtoconsultthebestphysicians,andputmyselfundertheircaretillIwasthoroughlyrestored.

           "Meanwhile"—Imutteredtomyself—"Iwillsaynothing,...noteventoLucio.Hewouldonlysmile,...andIshouldhatehim!..."

           Ibrokeoff,wonderingatthis.ForwasitpossibleIshouldeverhatehim?Surelynot!

           Thatnightbywayofachange,Isleptinahammockondeck,hopingtodispelmidnightillusionsbyrestingintheopenair.Butmysufferingswereonlyintensified.Iwokeasusual,...tosee,notonlySibyl,butalsotomydeadlyfear,theThreePhantomsthathadappearedtomeinmyroominLondonontheeveningofViscountLynton’ssuicide.

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