Charles Goqongwana’s troubles did not end with the instigation of an official police inquiry. In fact, it seemed like they had only just begun. Some kind soul had found his wallet and handed it in to the authorities, minus any funds he’d had in there, unsurprisingly. Nevertheless, he was glad to have the rest of his papers returned. Of his clothes and missing spectacles, nothing further came to light, and he was forced to address the necessity of acquiring a new pair of glasses.

‘Necessity’ was perhaps an overstatement, since Charles’s peculiar physical symptoms persisted beyond the morning following the incident. There was no denying that his eyesight had substantially improved, most notably at night. He now found himself capable of distinguishing objects in what for others seemed to be almost perfect darkness, which was a talent he had discovered after accidentally startling Max.

Upon entering a presumably vacant room, Max had switched on a lamp, only to find his employer already there, reading in the near dark. It then took three days of abject penitence in order to convince the man that it had not been a deliberate offence. But, in spite of this newfound acuity, Charles was reluctant to forgo spectacles entirely. He had worn the things since boyhood, and he felt oddly exposed without them.

On the other hand, Charles’s new and unnaturally keen sense of smell had taken even longer to get used to. He had to give up tobacco entirely because of it, but he was gradually learning how to use it to his advantage. With practice, he discovered that he could identify individuals by their scent alone. It was easier if there were fewer people around, because if there were too many, he could not pick out the individual notes too reliably. Adding to his troubles, especially strong odours could quickly become overwhelming to him, and those seemed to be in ready supply in Redruth.

Perhaps because of that limitation, Charles started feeling trapped and anxious around crowds, which made attending several of his social obligations that month unpredictably hellish for him. And even though he had perfected the art of moving unobserved through a gathering long before, he found himself retreating to the periphery more and more, and watching everything rather than participating in it. The urge to gallop away from it all was becoming all too powerful.

But, Charles’s altered sight and smell were hardly the most disturbing new ailments he suffered from. As the days went by, more oddities presented themselves. He found that he was famished all the time now, which was a malady reminiscent of his teenaged years when he sprouted from an undersized lad of fourteen to nearly his full adult height over a period of less than six months. Feeling oddly self-conscious about his insatiable craving for food, he took to supplementing his meals in secret, and hoarding the difference in his eating habits from his employee’s scrutiny. But, in spite of all of that, he still managed to somehow lose weight, shedding off what little padding he had accumulated around his midsection in his twenties, and leaving nothing but lean muscle behind.

The new developments alone would have prompted a wiser man to visit a physician, but Charles was still rather deep in denial about the fact that something was gravely amiss.

The final symptom manifested itself during the first time that a merchant handed Charles change after the incident. It was an otherwise perfect and ordinary transaction, yet as soon as the coins touched his hand, he yelped in surprise and pain. He then dropped them on the cobbles as though they were burning embers, and defensively clutched his injured hand to his chest. The man behind the counter simply stared at him in stunned alarm while, feeling mortified, Charles stooped to collect the scattered coins with a handkerchief and fled the premises with red welts on his palm.

Experimentation later proved that the offending item in the lot was a battered coin dated 1968 that burned when Charles touched it with his bare hand. The other coins, which were all of more recent vintage, merely itched uncomfortably when he handled them.

A quick test with a few of the items in the sideboard confirmed the diagnosis: Charles had suddenly developed an acute allergy to silver. A superstitious hypothesis formed in his mind at the discovery, but he refused to entertain it. Instead, he carried on with his life and worked as best he could under the circumstances.

It was not all bad news, though. Charles had had some minor successes, such as when he traced a would-be blackmailer by her perfume alone in early Spring and, later in the season, chasing down a fleeing purse bandit without becoming winded. When he ran, he felt alive and vital, like he had never felt before. He was even almost disappointed when he caught up with the hoodlum because it meant he had had to stop.

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Tell us: What do you think all these symptoms could mean for Charles?