Rick listened, his heart pounding.
"None. The people on the houseboat were most considerate. One of the men insisted that I get into some of his spare clothes, and I did so. One of the women—the wife of the man who came here, I believe—made me a cup of hot consommé. They told me I was apparently whole, no broken bones."
"They were very pleasant and helpful," Rick admitted.
The houseboaters had done just the right things, including coming to Spindrift for help rather than bringing the scientist home in the slow-moving and rather uncomfortable pram. Instead, Hartson Brant had waited on the houseboat while one of the men brought the pram to the island with a request that someone follow him back in a more comfortable boat.
Rick and Scotty had done so, and were almost limp with relief at finding the scientist apparently unhurt and comfortable.
"How does your head feel?" Parnell Winston demanded.
"Rather stuffy," the scientist admitted. "I'm finding it difficult to collect my thoughts. Parnell, why all these questions?"
The cyberneticist rubbed his bushy eyebrows with both hands, a habit he had when agitated. "Hartson, as you know, I am not a doctor of medicine. However, I do claim competence as a physiologist, and consequently bodily reactions are familiar to me. I believe you have been drugged."
"Drugged?" Rick's heart stopped momentarily.
"Yes. I've looked for the mark of a hypodermic needle, but there is none. If I'm correct, the drug was a light one, possibly amytal. Your reflexes are slower than normal, even taking the accident and subsequent shock into account, and your pupils react slowly."