The Parasite Chapter 3
The Arthur Conan Doyle Library
September 25, 2026
In which the narrator grapples with the overpowering and mysterious influence exerted upon him by a formidable woman, struggling valiantly to assert his will and regain his freedom amid mounting dread and isolation.
TopicsFiction
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The Parasite. A story by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.
Chapter 3
I read over my notes of what the woman said when she spoke about her powers. There is one point which fills me with dismay. She implies that when the influence is slight, the subject knows what he is doing, but cannot control himself. Whereas, when it is strongly exerted, he is absolutely unconscious.
Now I have always known what I did, though less so last night than on the previous occasions. That seems to mean that she has never yet exerted her full powers upon me. Was ever a man so placed before?
Yes, perhaps there was, and very near me too. Charles Sadler must know something of this. His vague words of warning take a meaning now. Oh, if I had only listened to him then, before I helped by these repeated sittings to forge the links of the chain which binds me! But I will see him today. I will apologize to him for having treated his warning so lightly. I will see if he can advise me.
4 p.m. No, he cannot. I have talked with him, and he showed such surprise at the first words in which I tried to express my unspeakable secret that I went no further. As far as I can gather, by hints and inferences rather than by any statement, his own experience was limited to some words or looks such as I myself have endured. His abandonment of Miss Penclosa is in itself a sign that he was never really in her toils. Oh, if only he knew his escape! He has to thank his phlegmatic Saxon temperament for it. I am black and Celtic, and this hag's clutch is deep in my nerves. Shall I ever get out? Shall I ever be the same man that I was just one short fortnight ago?
Let me consider what I had better do. I cannot leave the university in the middle of the term. If I were free, my course would be obvious. I should start at once and travel in Persia. But would she allow me to start? And could her influence not reach me in Persia and bring me back to within touch of her crutch?
I can only find out the limits of this hellish power by my own bitter experience. I will fight and fight and fight. And what more can I do?
I know very well that about eight o'clock tonight that craving for her society, that irresistible restlessness, will come upon me. How shall I overcome it? What shall I do? I must make it impossible for me to leave the room. I shall lock the door and throw the key out of the window. But then, what am I to do in the morning? Never mind about the morning. I must at all cost break this chain which holds me.
April 9 Victory! I have done splendidly. At seven o'clock last night I took a hasty dinner and then locked myself up in my bedroom and dropped the key into the garden. I chose a cheery novel and lay in bed for three hours trying to read it, but really in a horrible state of trepidation, expecting every instant that I should become conscious of the impulse. Nothing of the sort occurred, however, and I woke this morning with the feeling that a black nightmare had been lifted off me. Perhaps the creature realized what I had done and understood that it was useless to try to influence me. At any rate, I have beaten her once, and if I can do it once, I can do it again. It was most awkward about the key in the morning. Luckily, there was an undergardener below, and I asked him to throw it up. No doubt he thought I had just dropped it. I will have doors and windows screwed up and six stout men to hold me down in my bed before I will surrender myself to be hag-ridden in this way.
I had a note from Miss Marden this afternoon, asking me to go round and see her. I intended to do so in any case, but had not expected to find bad news waiting for me. It seems that the Armstrongs, from whom Agatha has expectations, are due home from Adelaide in the Aurora, and that they have written to Miss Marden and to her to meet them in town. They will probably be away for a month or six weeks, and as the Aurora is due on Wednesday, they must go at once. To-morrow, if they are ready in time. My consolation is that when we meet again there will be no parting between Agatha and me.
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