I shuddered; but tried to conceal it, asking quickly:
“What manner of man is Doctor Copicus? Is he a magician? Is the island enchanted? What do you here?”
But he answered:
“I may not tell you these things. The Doctor will do so in his own good time. And I stay too long. Farewell. For the present, farewell.”
And, deaf to the importunities that I made, he rose and went from the cell.
I reckoned up what I had learnt. ’Twas but little. One mystery, indeed, was resolved: that of the deserted ship. But of the island and its Master (save his name), I had learnt nothing. It did appear, however, that the presence of the man Ouvery amongst us at our first setting out, was known to Doctor Copicus; whence, in all probability, it followed he was by him sent to my brother, to ensnare him and to occasion the mutiny and our voyaging hither.
But to what end? What motives had persuaded Doctor Copicus to cause the coming of a renegade King’s ship? Perhaps, I thought, he might want the ship, her ordnance, her men.
I next turned my thoughts upon the ghostly figure that had frighted us. Was it supernatural? Sure it must be! For what cunning, short of sorcery, could possibly have contrived that horrible and diabolical appearance? Nay, had the thing been contrived by Doctor Copicus to terrify us, how was it feasible that he wished to frighten us away, after (by my surmise) having enticed us to the island?
I was deep in these cogitations, when, on a sudden, a shadow and a fear fell upon me; and, looking round, I saw that Doctor Copicus again stood within the cell. I met his gaze—but could not support it, so searching was it.
“So, my lad,” said he, in mild and gentle tones, “hast made a good recovery. A sound mind in a sound body nature mends apace. Welcome, Francis Clayton, welcome to the Promised Land!”