All this he had felt before; it was his old enemy, but now with this second attack began a new and even stranger sensation.  In his distorted wits he fancied that he was in some manner changing, that he was becoming another man; worse than that, it seemed to him that he was no longer human, that he was sinking, all in a moment, to the level of some dreadful beast.

Later on in that same evening Ellis met young Haight coming out of one of the theatres, and told him a story that Haight did not believe.  Ellis was very pale, and he seemed to young Haight to be trying to keep down some tremendous excitement.

“If he was drunk,” said Ellis, “it was the strangest drunk I ever saw.  He came back into the room on all fours—­not on his hands and knees, you understand, but running along the floor upon the palms of his hands and his toes—­and he pushed the door of the room open with his head, nuzzling at the crack like any dog.  Oh, it was horrible. I don’t know what’s the matter with Van.  You should have seen him; his head was hanging way down, and swinging from side to side as he came along; it shook all his hair over his eyes.  He kept rattling his teeth together, and every now and then he would say, way down in his throat so it sounded like growls, ‘Wolf—­wolf—­wolf.’  I got hold of him and pulled him up to his feet.  It was just as though he was asleep, and when I shook him he came to all at once and began to laugh.  ’What’s the matter, Van?’ says I.  ‘What are you crawling on the floor that way for?’ ’I’m damned if I know,’ says he, rubbing his eyes.  ’I guess I must have been out of my head.  Too much whisky!’ Then he says:  ’Put me to bed, will you, Bandy?  I feel all gone in.’  Well, I put him to bed and went out to get some bromide of potassium; he said that made him sleep and kept his nerves steady.  Coming back, I met a bell-boy just outside of Van’s door, and told him to ask the hotel doctor to come up.  You see, I had not opened the door of the room yet, and while I was talking to the bell-boy I could hear the sound of something four-footed going back and forth inside the room.  When I got inside there was Van, perfectly naked, going back and forth along the wall, swinging his head very low, grumbling to himself.  But he came to again as soon as I shook him, and seemed dreadfully ashamed, and went to bed all right.  He got to sleep finally, and I left the doctor with him, to come out and get something for my own nerves.”

“What did the doctor say was the matter?” asked young Haight, in horror.

“Lycanthropy-Pathesis.  I never heard the name before—­some kind of nervous disease.  I guess Van had been hitting up a pretty rapid gait, and then I suppose he’s had a good deal to worry him, too.”

* * * * *

Once more the attack passed off, leaving Vandover exhausted, his nerves all jangling, his health impaired.  Every day he seemed to grow thinner, great brown hollows grew under his eyes, and the skin of his forehead looked blue and tightly drawn.  By degrees a deep gloom overcame him permanently, nothing could interest him, nothing seemed worth while.  Not only were his nerves out of tune, but they were jaded, deadened, slack; they were like harpstrings that had been played upon so long and so violently that now they could no longer vibrate unless swept with a very whirlwind.