I could not speak, and he either could not or would not. He only looked at me. A lamp which hung over him on the wall cast a light on his face. He smiled at me.

For what seemed an immeasurably long time he gazed unwaveringly into my eyes. Slowly he inclined his face towards me, until we almost touched.

“Sinclair!” he said in a whisper.

I signaled to him with my eyes that I understood him.

He smiled again, almost as if in compassion.

“Little one!” he said, smiling.

His mouth lay now quite close to mine. Softly he continued to speak.

“Can you still remember Frank Kromer?” he asked.

I winked at him, and could even manage to smile.

“Sinclair, old man, listen: I shall have to go away. Perhaps you will need me once again, on account of Kromer, or something. When you call me, I shall not come riding on a horse, or in a train. You must hearken to the voice inside you, then you will notice it is I, that I am in you. Do you understand? And one other thing: Mother Eve said that if ever you were ill I was to give you a kiss from her, which she gave me.⁠ ⁠… Close your eyes, Sinclair!”

I obediently closed my eyes. I felt a light kiss on my lips, on which there was a trace of blood, which never seemed to stop flowing. And then I fell asleep.

In the morning I was awakened to have my wounds dressed. When at last I was properly awake, I turned quickly to the mattress by my side. A stranger lay upon it, a man on whom I had never before set eyes.