the smoldering fire but the figure opposite me appeared to
dissolve into wisps of bluish vapor, a puff of smoke. In the
distance, I could hear the faint tinkling of small bells or
glass chimes in the wind.
II
I may have slept for a minute or twenty-four
hours. I couldn’t tell. But when I awoke, it was dark again,
or still. I was undressed, lying in an old and elaborate four
poster bed. My feet and hands were bound with coarse
and heavy rope. The room was otherwise unfurnished
except for a martyr’s cross hanging above the bed and a
small table at the side. Layer upon layer of quilted fabric
covered my body. The sheet beneath me was wet with my
perspiration. My face and hair were also damp although
the room was exceedingly cold. A window was open and
through it a strong breeze blew, whipping the curtains like
flags in a storm. And, like flags that had fought many a
gale, the curtains were tattered beyond repair.
At first, I couldn’t remember where I was. I tried
to think but my thoughts were confused between the
dreams from which I had awakened and the encounter
with Dr. Wertenberg in the firelit study. I couldn’t
distinguish which was true and which an illusion.
There was something dreamlike about the setting
in the study. The soft incandescence of the fire. The
surprising heat that it was able to produce in its death
throes. The old gentleman in formal attire. The lovely
young creature who brought the whiskey. Ah, the whiskey.
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