Mr. Jennings has confessed all.  How strange to feel so close to another and yet so remote.  Perhaps it makes me ideal to assist him, and at last I feel as if that purpose I’d hoped for has become resolutely manifest.

The man was a promising architect, so much like myself.  My torment was causal.  His comes from a far more dreadful source: nothing.  Apparently.  Why him?  Why should he be cursed?  No matter, for now.  First to secure, then to cure.

This mausoleum room is a protective cage, yes.  But is the protected party within or without?

As this challenge is flung into the air, Mrs. Johnson is seeing phantom gentlemen.  Whether or not they are wayward merchants who’ve come staggering in from the Blue Whale is a question yet to be answered.



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