not natural; I couldn't make him out. You say it is the ring. He
always wore it. I laid it to this Rhamda. He was always meeting
him. I could never understand it. Try as I would, I could not get
a trace of the phantom."

"The phantom?"

"Most assuredly. Would you call him human?" His grey eyes were
flecked with light. "Come now, Mr. Wendel, would you?"

"Well," I answered, "I don't know. Not after what I have seen. But
for all that, I have proof of his sinews. I am inclined to blend
the two. There is a law somewhere, a very natural one. The Blind
Spot is undoubtedly a combination of phenomena; it has a control.
We do not know what it is, or where it leads to; neither do we
know the motive of the Rhamda. Who is he? If we knew that, we
would know everything."

"And this ring?"

"I shall wear it."

"Then God help you. I watched Watson. It's plain poison. You have
a year; but you had better count on half a year; the first six
months aren't so bad; but the last--it takes a man! Wendel, it
takes a man! Already you're eating your heart out. Oh, I know--you
have opened the windows; you want sunshine and air. In six months
I shall have to fight to get one open. It gets into the soul; it
is stagnation; you die by inches. Better give me the ring."