"Why did you not wake me?"
"I wished to, but the shadow intervened."
"It reappeared?"
"For a second that reduced me to a state of trembling imbecility."
"That infernal perfume has simply shattered your nerves," I commented cheerfully. "You'll be better after a good rest. Overstrain and anxiety of course are to a degree responsible. Indeed, they might be held accountable for the hallucination alone. But I blame the perfume to a great extent, because it similarly affected me."
"What!" she cried, "you saw a shadow, too?"
I laughed softly. "My own—no other. But its appearance shocked me horribly. In my opinion that coffin perfume works powerfully upon the optic nerve. How are you feeling now?"
"As well as ever in my life."
"No fears?"
"None. But I admit a distrust of that sarcophagus—or rather of the perfume it contains. Are you sure that you stopped up the chisel hole securely?"