“Thank you,” Gregory replied.
They made their way to the lower deck and into the doctor’s quarters. The latter excused himself for a moment whilst he prepared some medicine. Afterwards he opened his cupboard, produced a bottle of brandy and two liqueur glasses and pushed a box of cigarettes across the table.
“What’s wrong with you, young fellow?” he asked a little abruptly.
“Nerves,” Gregory answered. “Do you believe in them?”
“To some extent,” was the cautious reply. “How are they getting at you?”
“I’m haunted by an evil spirit,” Gregory declared, lighting a cigarette. “It’s there, a wooden Image behind a curtain, down in my stateroom. Now get ready to laugh. I assure you, Doctor, every moment I spend with that damned thing makes me feel more of a rotter.”
“Where did you get it?” the doctor enquired curiously.
Gregory glanced towards the closed door.
“I am not sure whether it is wise to tell you,” he replied, “but, as a matter of fact, it is a small statue of a famous Chinese god. It is meant to represent all the gross side of a man’s life. It is meant to depict every evil that can haunt the sinner.”
The doctor suddenly leaned forward in his chair.