That moment of habit-wrought forgetfulness saved me and saved Sir George's life.

I remember that I sank into the chair in front of the fireplace, holding the iron, and I thank God that I remember nothing more.
During the night the servants aroused me, and I staggered up the stone stairway of Eagle Tower and clambered into my room.
The next morning I awakened feeling ill.

There was a taste in my mouth as If I had been chewing a piece of the devil's boot over night.

I wanted no breakfast, so I climbed to the top of the tower, hoping the fresh morning breeze might cool my head and cleanse my mouth.

For a moment or two I stood on the tower roof bareheaded and open-mouthed while I drank in the fresh, purifying air.