After all this time, and in spite of anything he could tell them, they still believed, or pretended to believe, that he was suffering from tuberculosis, and that all the rest of this was delusion, a phase of insanity!
And Mersereau’s skeleton still out there on the Monte Orte!
And Mersereau’s plan, with the help of others, of course, was to choke him to death, there was no doubt of that now; and yet they would believe after he was gone that he had died of tuberculosis of the throat. Think of that.
XII—Midnight of February 10, 1909
The Ghost of Mersereau (bending over Davidson): “Softly! Softly! He’s quite asleep! He didn’t think we could get him—that I could! But this time,—yes. Miss Koehler is asleep at the end of the hall and Miss Liggett can’t come, can’t hear. He’s too weak now. He can scarcely move or groan. Strengthen my hand, will you! I will grip him so tight this time that he won’t get away! His cries won’t help him this time! He can’t cry as he once did! Now! Now!”
A Cloud of Evil Spirits (swimming about): “Right! Right! Good! Good! Now! Ah!”
Davidson (waking, choking, screaming, and feebly striking out): “Help! Help! H-e-l-p! Miss—Miss—H—e—l—p!”
Miss Liggett (dozing heavily in her chair): “Everything is still. No one restless. I can sleep.” (Her head nods.)
The Cloud of Evil Spirits: “Good! Good! Good! His soul at last! Here it comes! He couldn’t escape this time! Ah! Good! Good! Now!”
Mersereau (to Davidson): “You murderer! At last! At last!”