I was getting accustomed to the weird light now and I could see that his eyes were watching me closely all the time. I think if I hadn’t been so wrought-up I’d have found the situation funny. There was I with whatever it was he wanted in the hollow of my artificial leg and he didn’t know how to get it out of me. ‘I think I’ll go back to bed now,’ I said.
He nodded and got to his feet. ‘Me, too. But first I’m going to have a drink. What will you have?’
‘Nothing, thank you.’
‘Oh, come on now. You’re not going to make me drink alone, are you?’
‘I’ve had too much to-night already,’ I reminded him.
‘Nonsense. I insist.’ He was over at the drink table. I couldn’t see what he was doing, but I heard the clink of glass. I started towards the door, but he stopped me. ‘Here you are, Farrell. A straight cognac. Just the thing you need.’
‘No, really — I’d rather not.’ I was edging towards the door all the time.
‘Damn it, man, it won’t bite you.’ His voice had sharpened. The light caught his eyes and they glowed like two coals in the half-dark. He’d almost certainly drugged it, but if I didn’t take it I was afraid he’d try some other method of getting what he wanted.
‘All right,’ I said. I took the glass.
‘Well, up she goes.’