“So far, Krag, that I now possess an open mind. I am quite willing to see what you can do.”
“Nothing more is asked.... But this tower business. You know that until you are able to climb to the top you are unfit to stand the gravitation of Tormance?”
“Then I repeat, it’s an awkward obstacle, for I certainly can’t get up.”
Krag hunted about in his pockets, and at length produced a clasp knife.
“Remove your coat, and roll up your shirt sleeve,” he directed.
“Do you propose to make an incision with that?”
“Yes, and don’t start difficulties, because the effect is certain, but you can’t possibly understand it beforehand.”
“Still, a cut with a pocket-knife—” began Maskull, laughing.
“It will answer, Maskull,” interrupted Nightspore.
“Then bare your arm too, you aristocrat of the universe,” said Krag. “Let us see what your blood is made of.”