Seating myself at my desk, I snatched up this volume and quickly searched through its pages until I came upon the passage that had impressed me so forcibly the previous afternoon, during my initial examination of the book. The section in question, which I had underscored in pencil, read as follows:

Among the myriad superstitions that beset the mind of the Fijiian islander, perhaps none is more striking than his deeply rooted conviction that his shadow is a living entity, possessed of the power to detach itself from its owner and travel abroad on its own mysterious—and not infrequently sinister—errands. Such a phenomenon most often occurs in the night-time, when a person is asleep, although—under certain conditions—the shadow may take temporary leave of its owner even during broad daylight.

Once separated from its owner, this spectral being may assume human shape. According to the beliefs of these savages, such an entity will be a kind of mirror reflection of the original: left-handed where the owner is right, cunning where the owner is guileless, etc. (Indeed, it may even appear as a being of the opposite sex.) Thus disguised, it is at liberty to move freely throughout the world, engaging in behavior of the most immoral and even atrocious kind—in bestial violence, implacable vengeance, or vulgar sensuality: behavior which is utterly forbidden to (though perhaps secretly desired by) its owner.

In this way, the shadow can be viewed as the manifestation of those diabolical impulses so deeply buried within the bosom of its owner that even he is unaware of their existence. Thus is he able to perpetrate the most hideous deeds, while maintaining a steadfast ignorance of the evil which his own hidden longings have wrought.

The emotional effect elicited in me by this passage can scarcely be formulated in words. As I perused it again in an agony of superstitious terror, I began to quiver in every fibre of my being. Flinging down the heavy volume, I staggered to my feet and retreated to my bedchamber, where I threw myself headlong upon the mattress and endeavored to find refuge in the sweet oblivion of sleep.

But in vain! For no sooner had I shut my eyes than a grim, an appalling, vision materialized within my mind, rendering sleep an utter impossibility. It was she!—the same ghastly female being whom I had encountered on two separate occasions and whose very existence—I now believed with a certainty that caused the very marrow to chill within my bones—was intimately bound up with my own!

CHAPTER 21