Once more there was a long silence, until I began to think that I must have missed the next question and answer, and that this extraordinary catechism had terminated. Then the voice of Pharos recommenced: "Place thine hand in mine and look once more." This time the answer was even more bewildering than before. "I see death," said the voice. "Death on every hand. It continues night and day, and the world is full of wailing!" "It is well, I am satisfied," said Pharos. "Now lie down and sleep. In an hour thou wilt wake and wilt remember naught of what thou hast revealed to me." Unable to make anything of what I had heard, I rose from the place where I had been sitting and began to pace the deck. The remembrance of the conversation to which I had listened irritated me beyond measure. Had I been permitted another insight into the deviltry of Pharos, or what was the meaning of it? I was still thinking of this when I heard a step behind me, and turning, found the man himself approaching me. In the dim light of the deck the appearance he presented was not prepossessing, but when he approached me I discovered he was in the best of humours, in fact in better spirits than I had ever yet seen him. "I have been looking for you, Mr. Forrester," he said. "It is delightful on deck, and I am in just the humour for a chat." I felt an inclination to tell him that I was not so ready, but before I could give him an answer he had noticed my preoccupation. "You have something on your mind," he said. "I fear you are not as pleased with my hospitality as I could wish you to be. What is amiss? Is there anything I can do to help you?" "Nothing, I thank you," I answered a little stiffly. "I have a slight headache and am not much disposed for conversation this evening." Though the excuse I made was virtually true, I did not tell him that I had only felt it since I had overheard his conversation a few minutes before. "You must let me cure you," he answered. "I am vain enough to flatter myself I have some knowledge of medicine." I was beginning to wonder if there was anything of which he was ignorant. At the same time I was so suspicious of him that I had no desire to permit him to practise his arts on me. I accordingly thanked him, but declined his services, on the pretext that my indisposition was too trifling to call for so much trouble. "As you will," he answered carelessly. "If you are not anxious to be cured, you must, of course, continue to suffer."