I think that the automatic processes of my brain must have ceased. Without entering into a long description, which the majority of the laity would not properly understand, it is but necessary to say that the lowest, or "third level" of the brain includes all the functions which the spinal cord and its upper termination, which we call the "medulla," are able to perform alone--that is, without involving necessarily the activity of the nervous centres and brain areas which lie above them. The "third level" functions are those of life-sustaining processes generally--breathing, heart-beat and vaso-motor action--which secure the circulation of the blood. It was this portion of the brain, controlling the automatic processes, which had become paralysed. I needed, I knew, an artificial stimulation--some agent by which the physiological processes might be started again. What if they would not start again normally! I sat in my chair, rigid as a corpse, unable to move or to utter a sound--cold, stiff, and as I well knew, resembling in every way a person lifeless. Slight consciousness remained to me, but, after a while, even that faded, and I knew not then what followed. The period of blank unconsciousness appeared to me but a few minutes, but it must have been hours, for when I awoke the morning sun was high and was shining full in my face as I sat there. My limbs were cramped and my head was heavy, but there was no pain with my returning sensibility, as is generally the case after a period of insensibility. I rose with difficulty, and, staggering unevenly to the window, looked out. Upon the terrace two men were idly strolling as was the habit of those who came down early, awaiting the breakfast bell. I glanced at the timepiece and saw that it was about nine o'clock. Had Beryl's absence yet been discovered? I glanced over to my bed, and then recollected that I had not undressed. Truly that night had been an eventful one. La Gioia had actually been in that room. In an instant, recollections of my midnight vigil and my chase crowded upon me. Surely, if that rope-ladder were still suspended from the window of the room occupied by my love, those two men strolling there must have noticed it! I opened my own window and leaned out to look. No, it had been removed. My loved one's absence had been discovered. The breakfast bell rang and aroused me to a sense of responsibility. I knew of the secret visit of La Gioia, and it was my duty to reveal it so that the truth might be ascertained. Therefore, I shaved quickly, changed my clothes, and tossed about my bed so that the maids should not suspect my wakefulness.