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Let it suffice that many of my pain-maddening waking hours were devoted to dreams of vengeance on Cecil Winwood. One thing of great value I learned in the long, pain-weary hours of waking namely, the mastery of the body by the mind. I learned to suffer passively, as, undoubtedly, all men have learned who have passed through the post-graduate courses of strait-jacketing.
Very few men born of women have been fortunate enough to suffer years of solitary and strait-jacketing. That was my good fortune. I was enabled to remember once again, and to remember, among other things, the time when I sat astride a horse and beheld the lepers healed. My name was Ragnar Lodbrog. I was in truth a large man. I stood half a head above the Romans of my legion.
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