“No,” he said, “I’m afraid I have nothing; nothing at all.” He bowed himself forward where he sat and propped his head in his hands; a few drops of blood trickled over his fingers. Sard saw that he was on the brink of swooning.
“Mr. Kingsborough,” he said, “will you look about the room for a wire or a tool or something?”
“Wait a moment, will you,” Hilary answered. “It’s silly of me. I’m afraid I’m going to faint.” He fainted, then came to himself, then saw the blood on his hands and fainted again. Presently he hove himself up into a sitting posture and said that he had never felt so sick in his life.
“Shut your eyes,” Sard said.
“Yes, you say ‘shut your eyes,’ but my head’s all gone. I’m as sick as a cat. I say, would you mind bringing me some water?”
“I’ll bring you water,” Sard said. Margarita was crying. “I’ll bring you lovely water. Only, you see, your sister and I are locked up here, chained. We want you to unchain us.”
“So I would,” he said. “But I cannot stand this smell of incense. It takes all the strength clean out of me.”
“Hilary,” Margarita said sharply, “Hilary, turn round. Look at that shelf on the side of the wall there. Is not that water in a glass jug there?”
“It is water,” Sard said. “Look, Mr. Kingsborough. It is water. Get to the shelf and splash yourself.”
“It is water,” Hilary said. “I don’t know about getting to it.”