When I awoke thoroughly, as I did long and long before daybreak, I knew
I was ill. I had a bad sore throat and an oppression at my chest which
made me feel as if I was breathing through a sponge. My limbs ached more
than had been the case on the previous evening whilst my head felt
heavier than a log of teak.
"What should I do if I were to have a bad illness in that house?" I
wondered to myself, and for a few minutes I pondered over the expediency
of returning home; but this idea was soon set aside.
Where could I go that the Uninhabited House would not be a haunting
presence? I had tried running away from it once before, and found it
more real to me in the King's Road, Brighton, than on the banks of the
Thames. No!--ill or well, I would stay on; the very first night of my
absence might be the night of possible explanation.
Having so decided, I dressed and proceeded to the office, remaining
there, however, only long enough to write a note to Mr. Craven, saying I
had a very bad cold, and begging him to excuse my attendance.
After that I turned my steps to Munro's lodgings. If it were possible
to avert an illness, I had no desire to become invalided in Mr.
Elmsdale's Hall.
Fortunately, Munro was at home and at dinner. "Just come in time, old
fellow," he said, cheerily.
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