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"
It
's
there
again
,
"
said
Mr.
Marvel
,
closing
his
eyes
and
clasping
his
hand
on
his
brow
with
a
tragic
gesture
.
He
was
suddenly
taken
by
the
collar
and
shaken
violently
,
and
left
more
dazed
than
ever
.
"
Do
n't
be
a
fool
,
"
said
the
Voice
.
"
I
'm
--
off
--
my
--
blooming
--
chump
,
"
said
Mr.
Marvel
.
"
It
's
no
good
.
It
's
fretting
about
them
blarsted
boots
.
I
'm
off
my
blessed
blooming
chump
.
Or
it
's
spirits
.
"
"
Neither
one
thing
nor
the
other
,
"
said
the
Voice
.
"
Listen
!
"
"
Chump
,
"
said
Mr.
Marvel
.
"
One
minute
,
"
said
the
Voice
,
penetratingly
,
tremulous
with
self-control
.
"
Well
?
"
said
Mr.
Thomas
Marvel
,
with
a
strange
feeling
of
having
been
dug
in
the
chest
by
a
finger
.
"
You
think
I
'm
just
imagination
?
Just
imagination
?
"
"
What
else
can
you
be
?
"
said
Mr.
Thomas
Marvel
,
rubbing
the
back
of
his
neck
.
"
Very
well
,
"
said
the
Voice
,
in
a
tone
of
relief
.
"
Then
I
'm
going
to
throw
flints
at
you
till
you
think
differently
.
"
"
But
where
are
yer
?
"
