He steadied himself as cautiously as a tightrope-walker. He placed one foot upon the stool, swayed, steadied, made an effort, caught the rim of the shelf and stood there.
“Splendid, Hilary! You’ve done it.”
“Good man.”
“It’s on a tray,” Hilary said. “I can’t reach the jug, it’s too far in. But I’ve got hold of the tray.”
“Pull the tray towards you. There; it is coming.”
“Now catch hold of the jug.”
“Oh, take care, take care; mind, Hilary!”
“You’ll have the whole thing down.”
“Oh, Lord!” Hilary said.
In his weakness, as the tray reached the edge of the shelf, Hilary slipped, failed or fell. He tipped the tray over as he dropped; there was a crash and a breaking of glass and a gurgling of liquid.