“Then let us go on waiting for Krag,” said Maskull coldly.
Ten minutes later the front door slammed, and a light, quick footstep was heard running up the stairs. Maskull got up, with a beating heart.
Krag appeared on the threshold of the door, bearing in his hand a feebly glimmering lantern. A hat was on his head, and he looked stern and forbidding. After scrutinising the two friends for a moment or so, he strode into the room and thrust the lantern on the table. Its light hardly served to illuminate the walls.
“You have got here, then, Maskull?”
“So it seems—but I shan’t thank you for your hospitality, for it has been conspicuous by its absence.”
Krag ignored the remark. “Are you ready to start?”
“By all means—when you are. It is not so entertaining here.”
Krag surveyed him critically. “I heard you stumbling about in the tower. You couldn’t get up, it seems.”
“It looks like an obstacle, for Nightspore informs me that the start takes place from the top.”
“But your other doubts are all removed?”