I nodded again.

"Where to?"

I pointed with my finger downward.

"Down into the cellar?" cried the old servant.

"No," I said. "Lower down than that."

Night came. But I knew nothing about the lapse of time.

"Tomorrow morning at six precisely," my uncle decreed "we start."

At ten o'clock I fell upon my bed, a dead lump of inert matter. All
through the night terror had hold of me. I spent it dreaming of
abysses. I was a prey to delirium. I felt myself grasped by the
Professor's sinewy hand, dragged along, hurled down, shattered into
little bits. I dropped down unfathomable precipices with the
accelerating velocity of bodies falling through space. My life had
become an endless fall. I awoke at five with shattered nerves,
trembling and weary. I came downstairs. My uncle was at table,
devouring his breakfast. I stared at him with horror and disgust. But
dear Grauben was there; so I said nothing, and could eat nothing.

At half-past five there was a rattle of wheels outside. A large
carriage was there to take us to the Altona railway station. It was
soon piled up with my uncle's multifarious preparations.