Instead of clearing up, the whole thing had
grown deeper.
I have said that it was the last night I was to have Jerome. I
didn't know it then. Jerome went out early in the morning. I went
to bed. I was not afraid in the daylight. I was certain now that
the danger was localised. As long as I kept out of that apartment
I had nothing to fear. Nevertheless, the thing was magnetic. A
subtle weirdness pervaded the building. I did not sleep soundly. I
was lonely; the isolation was crowding on me. In the afternoon I
stepped out on the streets.
I have spoken of my experience with the conductor. On this day I
had the certainty of my isolation; it was startling. In the face
of what I was and what I had seen it was almost terrifying. It was
the first time I thought of sending for Hobart. I had thought I
could hold out. The complete suddenness of the thing set me to
thinking. I thought of Watson. It was the last phase, the
feebleness, the wanness, the inertia! He had been a far stronger
man than I in the beginning.
I must cable Fenton. While I had still an ego in the presence of
men, I must reach out for help. It was a strange thing and
inexplicable. I was not invisible. Don't think that. I simply did
not individualise. Men didn't notice me--till I spoke. As if I was
imperceptibly losing the essence of self. I still had some hold on
the world. While it remained I must get word to Hobart.
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