I have not seen Thomas Roch all day. He must be shut in his cabin, still under the influence of the fit that came upon him last night.
I feel certain that this is so, when about three o’clock in the afternoon, just as he is about to go below, the Count beckons me to approach.
I do not know what he wishes to say to me, this Count d’Artigas, but I do know what I will say to him.
“Do these fits to which Thomas Roch is subject last long?” he asks me in English.
“Sometimes forty-eight hours,” I reply.
“What is to be done?”
“Nothing at all. Let him alone until he falls asleep. After a night’s sleep the fit will be over and Thomas Roch will be his own helpless self again.”
“Very well, Warder Gaydon, you will continue to attend him as you did at Healthful House, if it be necessary.”
“To attend to him!”
“Yes—on board the schooner—pending our arrival.”