Again a whim came to me, and I counted the seconds, slow and sure, between my heart-beats.

At first, as I clearly noted, over a hundred seconds intervened between beats.

But as I continued to count the intervals extended so that I was made weary of counting.
And while this illusion of the extension of time and space persisted and grew, I found myself dreamily considering a new and profound problem.
Morrell had told me that he had won freedom from his body by killing his body--or by eliminating his body from his consciousness, which, of course, was in effect the same thing.

Now, my body was so near to being entirely dead that I knew in all absoluteness that by a quick concentration of will on the yet-alive patch of my torso it, too, would cease to be.

But--and here was the problem, and Morrell had not warned me: should I also will my head to be dead?
If I did so, no matter what befell the spirit of Darrell Standing, would not the body of Darrell Standing be for ever dead?
I chanced the chest and the slow-beating heart.