By sun up the next morning the Dilly household was in distress.

Dr. Gramheist, invited to stay overnight, slept care-free and calm as could be. Everyone else, however, did not sleep much at all.

Of the family members, William was struggling the most. His young wife still was in a terrible state due to her head injury the day before, muttering through the night about "the sealman" but showing little sign of improvement. That his daughter was now diagnosed insane, had presumably killed both the long-time family cook and her baby brother, and then dramatically jumped to her death over the high cliffs was very hard for the patriarch to fathom- even in her moody moments, Sophia had never shown any aggression like witnessed since arriving at Sharpy Island. It was very hard for William to process.

Jerome, the butler, was also struggling. HIs wife of many years, Jane, had been murdered. His young son Jack was in tears, wanting to know what had happened, but Jerome was too sad to speak- that Miss Sophia, the lovely young woman whose family he had for so many years worked for, could do something so ghastly was difficult for him to comprehend as well.

Albert was hurting too- in his heart he somehow knew Sophia was not guilty of the madness for which she was accused, yet like everyone else he was at a loss for other possible explanations. Sealmen didn't exist, it was impossible that they were to blame as Sophia had stressed so many times. Who else could possibly have been upstairs to attack poor Jane that way but Sophia? Yet he just could not find a way to accept that Sophia was to blame. Now that she now had presumably committed suicide made him feel like he had been shattered into many pieces.

Oh Sophia, he thought mournfully to himself, if only I had told you how I felt, if only you knew how long I've been in love with you, maybe you wouldn't have jumped...

But even then, something just didn't seem right. While evidence pointed to Sophia being dead, Albert could not shake the feeling that his beloved non-biological cousin was still alive. But where? And how? Once again, it was something the young man could not explain; it was merely a strange six sense he seemed to have.

Albert's mother, Augusta, heart also heavy with sorrow, could tell her adult son was suffering. The two of them sat in sitting room staring out the window at the crashing waves of the Atlantic before them. Phoque King Lighthouse was dark in the morning light- nothing of note was going on there.

"Oh, Albert," she sighed, "I'm sorry I insisted we summer here with the Dillys. If I had known it would be like this I would have said we should stay in the city."

Her son gave no answer.

"Well, how about I make us some breakfast? With all that's going on here, we'll need our strength." The woman rose to her feet slowly. "I have to apologize, as you know I haven't really had to cook for many years now, what with the help doing most of the meal preparation. That said, my scrambled eggs may be a bit rusty, but I imagine I still can make something edible."

It was then that a knocking came from the direction of the front hall.

Augusta looked to Albert. "Who on earth could that be?"

The knocking continued.

"Albert," Augusta said, "Jerome is certainly in no condition to answer the door. Could you...please?"

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Albert considered himself in no condition to answer the door either. He was lost in sad thoughts of Sophia and trying desperately to reason her innocence. But he was also an obedient son- his mother had asked him to do something and that was that. He nodded slowly as he stood up.

"Yes, mother," he answered softly, going to the hall as instructed.

However, as Albert threw open the front door he was startled at the sight. It was not so much that he was expecting it to be anyone he knew, but more that the individual on the doorstep was noticably angry. He was a pale man with a thick sandy moustache, glasses, and wrinkles for miles across his high forehead. With the door now ajar, he quickly pushed his way in.

"Where the devil is that man!?!" the fellow exclaimed, steam nearly coming out of his ears. Albert took a step backwards as the individual appeared to scour the hall for the presence of anyone else. Not seeing what he was looking for, he turned back to Albert. "Have you seen him?!"

"S-Seen who?" Albert answered. The visitor seemed quite incensed but wholly unfamiliar to him.

Augusta, from the sitting room, wandered into the hall at the sound of raised voices. She knew well her son's gentle nature and that her support may be needed. "Excuse me, sir," she said, trying to be polite, "but can I ask who you are and what you are doing here?"

"I was called!" the man pipped back, "I was told there was a woman who hurt herself and needed immediate attention!"

"Called?" Albert repeated, thinking a moment. "So, wait, you must be..."

"-Yes, I'm Dr. Reginald Fossey! And I've had a hell of a time getting here, no thanks to that man in your employ and his shananigans- where is he?!"

"Sir, what man?" asked Augusta, "Do you mean Jerome, the butler? He was the one who called you here, I believe-"

"-No, not the man who called!" Dr. Fossey stomped his foot. "The other man! The man at the docks in Portland!"

Augusta and Albert looked to each other. They were not sure what the doctor was going on about but he certainly seemed worked up.

"I know William has been waiting anxiously for you," Augusta offered, trying to glean more information, "he was expecting you yesterday, in fact, as his wife is in a terrible state-"

"-and I'm sure she still is! I had every intention of being here as soon as possible! But that man-!" the doctor seemed to pause as if trying very hard to collect himself, his face still bright red with anger. "There was a man. At the docks. When I was waiting on the taxi boat. He said he was also coming to Sharpy Island and said we ought to taxi over together. Said your family had told him to collect me when I said who I was and the purpose of my visit."

"You mean Dr. Gramheist?" volunteered Augusta. The name didn't seem to ring a bell but Dr. Fossey continued.

"He was a bigger man. Funny accent. He was quite pushy that we come over together. "

"Dr. Gramheist," repeated Augusta. "So, one moment- you're saying Dr. Gramheist saw you at the docks?" She again looked to her son. "He didn't make any mention of that to us..."

"I don't suppose he would!" Dr. Fossey returned to his rage, "the bastard told me to follow him and when I did threw a rag over my mouth that must have been soaked in chloroform or something similar as I was immobolized. When I woke up I found myself gagged and tied up onboard a lobster boat!"

"What?!" Both August and Albert was taken aback by this.

"Yes, I was tied up good and would still be tied up there if the boat owner hadn't by chance happened to stop by his vessel to retrieve a personal item he had left there! Normally he would not be going out for another couple of days, he told me!"

"T-That's...that's..." Albert stuttered, not knowing what he wanted to say.

"I take my patients' health very serious! That I have been held up as long as I have been is of great distress to both myself and surely to your family as well, and I intend to treat the injured woman I received a call about as soon as possible. But first, I demand justice for what I have been through getting here!"

"But...why would Dr. Gramheist tie you up like this...and prevent you from coming to see us?" Augusta wondered aloud.

"I intend to beat that answer out of out the man myself!" Dr. Fossey began pacing, looking about for any sign of movement beyond the hall. "Where is he?!"

Albert looked to his mother. Unless the yelling had awoken him, Dr. Gramheist presumably was still slumbering upstairs. Dr. Fossey's story did seem quite odd but even if it wasn't true, Albert's impressions of Dr. Gramheist had not been good thus far. Maybe letting the two doctors have a fisticuffs battle would provide a temporary relief to the depression that permeated Sharpy Island that sad morning.