August 27th.--Heatherlegh has been indefatigable in his attendance on me; and only yesterday told me that I
ought to send in an application for sick-leave. An application to escape the company of a phantom! A request
that the Government would graciously permit me to get rid of five ghosts and an airy 'rickshaw by going to
England! Heatherlegh's proposition moved me to almost hysterical laughter. I told him that I should await the
end quietly at Simla; and I am sure that the end is not far off. Believe me that I dread its advent more than any
word can say; and I torture myself nightly with a thousand speculations as to the manner of my death.
Shall I die in my bed decently and as an English gentlemen should die; or, in one last walk on the Mall, will
my soul be wrenched from me to take its place for ever and ever by the side of that ghastly phantasm? Shall I
return to my old lost allegiance in the next world, or shall I meet Agnes loathing her and bound to her side
through all eternity? Shall we two hover over the scene of our lives till the end of time? As the day of my
death draws nearer, the intense horror that all living flesh feels towards escaped spirits from beyond the grave
grows more and more powerful. It is an awful thing to go down quick among the dead with scarcely one half
of your life completed. It is a thousand times more awful to wait as I do in your midst, for I know not what
unimaginable terror. Pity me, at least on the score of my 'delusion,' for I know you will never believe what I
have written here. Yet as surely as ever a man was done to death by the Powers of Darkness I am that man.
In justice, too, pity her. For as surely as ever woman was killed by man, I killed Mrs. Wessington. And the
last portion of my punishment is even now upon me.